A LEARNED AND VERY ELOQVENT Treaty, written in Latin by the famous man Hieronymus Osorius Bishop of Sylva in Portugal, wherein he confuteth a certain Answer made by M. Walter Haddon against the Epistle of the said Bishop unto the Queen's Majesty.  
Translated into English by john Fen student of Divinity in the University of loven.  
LOVANII, Apud joannem Foulerum, Anno 1568.  
Cum Gratia & Privilegio.   

TO THE Catholic Reader.  
I Was moved (gentle Reader) to translate this Book into our mother tongue, for divers and sundry causes. First the fame of the author provoked me thereunto, who is, not in my private opinion, but in the estimation of alsuch as know gim, a virtuous Priest and godly Bishop, in the judgement of the world, for gravity, wisdom, eloquence and profound knowledge in all kind of learning in these our days a singular, yea an odd man. Then I thought it expedient, to impart the benefit thereof unto my unlearned country men, because as it was written generally for the commodity of all the Church of Christ, so it was especially meant and as it were dedicated to the Church and common weal of England, unto the which, as it may appear both by the epistle which he wrote before unto the Queen's Majesty, as also by this Book, he bore siugular good will. Moreover I judged, that mylabour in translating it should be the more profitably employed, because there are in it many goodly exhortations to stir a man up to the love and fear of God, many wholesome lessons, by the which a Christian man may direct and order his life, many points of Catholic doctrine (which are in these days called in controversy by our Adversaries) so plainly set out, that the unlearned may take great profit thereof, so learnedly disputed, that such as are well exercised in Divinity, may find wherewith to increase their knowledge. To be short, the thing that most moved me to take these pains, was, because it containeth a brief confutation of many erroneous opinions, of much heretical and pestilent doctrine, comprised in a little book, set out these late years in the name of M. Haddon: wherein was pretended an answer to the Epistle of Osorius, (which I spoke of before) but in effect was nothing else, but a numbered of stout assertions faintly proved, be sprinkled here and there with bitter taunts, unsavoury girds, and other the like scum or froth of undigested affections. These were the things that caused me to spare some time from my study to translate this book into English for the commodity of such as understand not the Latin tongue: whereof if thou shalt receive any profit (as thou mayst very much, if thou read it with diligence and good judgement) thank God of it, and with mindful heart acknowledge his great mercy and goodness towards us, in that it hath pleased him in this perilous time, not only to send us at home in our own country most virtuous, godly, and learned men, to be unto us a perfect rule both of good life and true belief: but also to move the heart of this grave Father and reverent Bishop (whose learned writings have deservedly obtained so great authority throughout all the Church of Christ) to pity the lamentable state of our most miserably decayed Church, and to lay his helping hand to the repairing of it, employing thereunto the rare gifts and graces of God, with the which (as thou shalt perceive by reading this book) he is most beawtifully adorned and decked. And thus I bid the hearty farewell, commending myself to thy devout prayers, and thee to Almighty God, whom thou shalt most humbly beseech, that it may please him, either of his mercy to turn the hearts of such as are maliciously bend against the true faith of Christ, or else of his justice to turn the wicked devices and devilish practices of Achitophel and all his confederacy to the glory of his holy name, and aduaunceme● of the Catholic Church.  
From loven, the first of November. Anno Domini. 1568. John Fen.   

THE FIRST BOOK.  
I Think it a great grace and benefit of God M. Haddon, that your book, which ye set out against me a few years past, with much a do at the length, this last day came unto my hands. Such care hath God put into the heart of Henry the Cardinal, who is a most godly Prince and wise governor, to use all possible diligence, that no such books, as may distain the pureness of godly Religion, be brought in amongst us. Had it not been, that Emanuel Almada bishop of Angra, a man excellently well furnished with all good qualities and virtues, to me most entire, both for the straight friendship, as also for the long acquaintance between us begun and continued even from our Ancestors, had accompaigned the most virtuous Lady Marry Princess of Parma, into the low Countries of Flaunders, I had not as yet heard any thing either of the book, or of the Writer. But he, after his arrival into those parties, chancing upon the book, thought he could no less do of friendship, but take upon him my cause, and confute your reproachful words. Howbeit in the work, which he wrote with singular diligence, he took upon him the defence, not so much of me, as of Religion, of piety, of godliness.  
After his return into his country (which was much later than we hoped) it was rumoured forthwith, that an English man, whose name was unknown, had written against Hieronymus Osorius, and that the Bishop of Angra had earnestly taken upon him the defence of Osorius, and this much was signified unto me by my friends letters. At the same time, I was painfully occupied in visiting my Diocese, the which notwithstanding, I was not so letted, but that I found a time to salute my friend, and welcome him home by my letters, in the which I required of him, that he would send me your book together with his defence. He answered me to every point of my letters, as humanity, courtesy and friendship required. But as touching your book, he said he was moved in conscience not to send it, until he had obtained licence of the Cardinal. whereby ye may perceive, how heinous and wicked offence it is amongst us, to read the books of such men, as have with many errors infected Religion.  
This wise man, albeit he had had very exact and perfect trial of my Religion by long experience, and saw that I was placed in the room and dignity of a Bishop, and therefore might of mine own authority search and try out what soever wiliness or craft lay hidden under the covert of your writings: yet durst he in no wise make me partaker of your book, before he understood our cardinals pleasure. You will here peradventure scorn and laugh at his overmuch superstition. But I shall never think any diligence that is employed to put away the contagion of such a deadly or mortal pestilence, to be overmuch. After many months at the length when he understood the Cardinal's pleasure, he sent me your book willing me withal to spare some time from mine own most earnest affairs, to answer you, and so did the rest of my friends also counsel me to do. And although it might seem a discourtesy not to regard the request of my friends, yet I would not have yielded unto them▪ if in this your work my estimation only had been touched, and not the purity of the Catholic Religion violated. I was also moved thereunto so much the more, because I thought it a point of Christian charity to try, whether you might be brought through my diligence, to lay down somewhat of your engrafted lightness. For doubtless I may well gather of these your writings, that in the writing thereof, ye stood very much in your own conceit, yea and that in some places as it were ravished with good liking of yourself, ye stood still looking earnestly about you even for the favourable applause of your friends. But how much your conceit hath deceived you, it shall forth with appear.  
First of all whereas ve say that I am a great framer of words and sentences: whether ye mean truly, or whether ye dissemble, I can not tell, but the praise that you give me, I do not acknowledge. If there be in me any commendable grace of speech, truly it is because I have bestowed my time and study, not so much in words, as to attain the knowledge of the highest points of learning. Besides that, this quality of speech, how simple so ever it be in me (if it be any thing at all) I have used, not to the damnable forging of false Religion, but with earnest and zealous good heart, to the setting forth of true godliness.  
In the very beginning of your book ye lay to my charge a great crime of rashness and presumption: for thus you say. You took much upon you, that being a private man, separated from us by land and sea, and unacquainted with our affairs, durst so boldly speak unto the queens Majesty. Now Sir, I beseech you, let me learn this one thing of you. What mean you by this word private? Is it a word of reproach only? Or may it not be applied also to good, virtuous, and noble men? Are there not amongst you many noble men that bear no office, neither serve in any place of the common weal? Say you so Sir? Are all those that serve not in the Office of Requests to be thrust out by you from the presence and speech of Kings? For so you lay the name of a private man to me, as though ye esteemed it to be a word of villainy and dishonour: as though you would say, that my father were some uplandish man, and I brought up in baseness, of so small account, that I was never worthy to look any King in the face, and therefore had committed a fault worthy of grievous punishment, that durst in my letters to name Queen Elizabeth, (whom I always name for honour's sake dew unto her Princely Majesty). But admit I were not (as I am in deed) of a very ancient gentleman's house: yet it was not the part of a man brought up in liberal sciences, to esteem any kind of men, or any kind of honour more than the ornaments of virtue. For all cognisances or Arms either of nobility, or of honour, although they be fair and goodly in show, yet when true virtue is away, being false, vain, and void of all sound fruit, are despised and holden as worthy of no account with every wise man. So that, if ye mean to speak to my rebuke, charge me with some crime or grievous offence, lay not unto me the name of a private man. For before I had the office of a Bishop, I was, both for favour, authority, and worship, preferred before a great number of your calling. If the name of a private man did signify dullness or lumpishness of wit, if it did import any heinous crime or dishonesty of life: then surely, he that should object that name to me, should reproachfully speak of me, and contrary to my deserts. But for so much as we see oftentimes, that, amongst Princes those men are in the highest places of honour, which are of all honour most unworthy, and contrariwise those void of all honour, which could most faith fully and honourably serve their Princes: it cometh to pass, that the name of a private man signifieth not the unworthiness of the persons, but the unluckines of the Princes. For they are so beset and held with the service of lewd fellows that they can not use the virtue of good men. Now whereas you say, that it is nothing decent, that I being a stranger separated from you by land and sea, should write a letter to your Queen: I beseek you Sir, teach me: were letters devised to advertise men of things behovesul, in their absence, or in their presence? Doubtless in their absence. Why then do ye blame me, that bearing very hearty good will unto your Queen, I admonished her being absent and separated from me by land and sea, of things appertaining unto the establishment of her estate? If I had been present, I would have humbly besought her, not by letters, but by word of mowth in presence, that, if she minded to save her life and maintain her honour, she should eschew the company and familiarity of infamous persons.  
You object also unto me, that I am not skilled in your affairs. As though I talked not of such matters as are most perfectly known of all men.  
Last of all you increase the unworthiness of my fact with the name of a Princely Majesty: as though your Queen did excel rather in richesse and puissance, then in gentleness and humanity, and as though I were such a man as could not by my letters advertise the greatest Prince in the Christian world of things of greatest importance. Acknowledge now, I pray you, your most unadvised rashness in this your talk, for thus much you seem to say. Whereas you have never had the practice of the Law, never borne in any common weal office (I mean such office as appertain to men of Law) never offered supplications to any Prince: Who hath made you so arrogant and presumptuous, as to take upon you to speak unto the Queen's Majesty, a thing granted to me all only, and to such as I am, and that for great good cause? If you perceive not M. Haddon, how fond and childish this your talk is, I must needs deem that you are bestraught of your senses. But if it grieveth you to see, that the Queen giveth ear to some other man that is not of your quality, I can not blame you. For why, certain it is, that you can not long enjoy this your felicity, if many wise and virtuous men shall unto her good will and authority join their service and industry. For the counterfeicted attendance of feigned virtue, in the presence of true virtue vanisheth away. Wherefore, I give you counsel to exclude all honest men (of whom, as I understand, there is no small number in England) from the familiarity of the Prince, expel them, thrust them out, by proclamations force them to flee out of the Realm. As for me, that am so far of, there is no cause why ye should be greatly careful, for so much as it can not be suspected, that I should take away from you your gains, after which as you show yourself, you gape so greedily. But by your patience Sir, me thinketh ye are of nature very base and abject, that for so mean a promotion take so great stomach and courage. If ye can not bear so mean a condition, but that you must needs in respect of your office, lay unto me the name of a private man, what would you do, if you were called to some higher degree of worship?  
You say, that I do go about to appair the estimation of laws, whereas in deed I do think, that the good estate of a common weal standeth and is maintained by laws, and am heartily sorry, that through these pestilent sects all good laws customs and ordinances are fallen to ruin and decay.  
You say that I appeach all the whole Realm of England, I can not tell, of what, hateful newfangledness: the which is also false. For I have heard of credible persons, that the greatest part of that Island do continue in the Old Religion.  
Now whereas you require of me to bear with you, because you have talked somewhat freely with me, as being an English man, fostered and brought up of the Queen's Majesty, and of the affairs of England not ignorant: I commend your love towards your country, I commend your loyalty towards your Prince, I commend your knowledge of things gotten by long experience, I commend also your freedom in speech. But beware you do not (so much as in you lieth) overthrow your Country, beware you bring not the Queen into danger of her estate and life, and when you are pricked and yearked forth with the goads of your own madness, beware you cloak not your erroneous belief and licentious life under the honest name of liberty. Ye promise assuredly that you mean to do it, for no debate or dissension of mind, whereas there can not be devised any greater dissension than this, you taking upon you to maintain, and I contrariwise to inveigh against the most wicked and heinous malefactors of the world.  
And where you say, that your purpose is to pull out of men's hearts certain false opinions that they have conceived of the state of England: if you can so do, you shall do me a very friendly pleasure. But this one thing I marvel much at, that you say, that my writings might hap to cause this false rumour and infamy, that is now bruited of England. What say you Sir? Are you only ignorant, how long time it is sense England was first charged with this infamous report? How was it possible, when the holy men john Fisher Bishop of Rochester, and S. Thomas More were openly put to death for their constancy in their faith and Religion: when the good religious Fathers the Carthusians were with most cruel torments slain and murdered: when the houses of Religion, in the which was appointed a mansion or dwelling place of perpetual chastity, were laid wide open, and turned to profane uses: when many other moments of holiness were utterly overthrown and defaced: how was it possible, I say, that England should be without a very exceeding great infamy? But without cause, say you. Be it so (if it please you) for I will not as yet dispute for either part. Yet this much I say, that even at that time there was a great brand of dishonesty burnt into the estimation of English men. But you forsooth, that should have defended all those things with main policy and counsel, were not yet come to bear the sway, and therefore the matter being destitute of such a spokesman as you are, that opinion that was by the constant report and brute of all men divulged, took place in all the Realms of Christendom. How is it then true, that I should caus● this infamy (which is so old) by my writings set out but the last day?  
You commend my kind of writing, the which is more than I requir● of you. For that I use in matters we known, words not necessary (as yo● think) you reprove me. But your reproach I am nothing offended withal for my desire is to talk of things mo● clear and plain, and what were to b● put into my Oration, and what to be put out, I think it dependeth of my judgement, and not of yours, which peradventure know not, what my meaning is.  
You say that, whereas I pretended in the beginning to do some other thing, I fell at the length to taunting and defacing of Religion. That is true in deed, if most vile and seditions heresy may be called Religion. You say that it is to no purpose for me to go about to discharge many English men of the envy of the fact, for that, (as you say) their case and cause is all one. And to prove that, you declare the manner of England to be such, that no law bindeth the people there, unless it be first decreed by the whole commonalty, received of the nobility, approved by the Clergy, and last of all authorized by the King, and therefore can not stand, that a law being made by the full consent and agreement of all, some men should sustain blame, and some others should be altogether void thereof. The law I like well: But that it is not kept, I think itmuch to be misliked. If the giving of voices were free, and not wrested and gotten out from men by threatening and punishment, I would like your saying well. But here to pass over with silence the lightness and inconstancy of the multitude, which may very easily be brought to any inconvenience either with the hatred of severity, either with the show of gentleness: and withal to leave that point untouched, how it is a thing impossible for every particular man to geave his voice, but of force they must give over their authority of giving voices unto a few: I would you would teach me this one thing, (for I confess plainly, that I am a stranger, and nothing expert in matters of your common weal) what horrible fact had the bishop of Rochester committed, that neither the gravity of his person, neither the dignity of a Bishop could save him from death? Went he about any treason against his country? Had he conspired the death of the Prince? Had he entered into talk with foreign enemies to betray his own common weal? Nothing less. But because he most constantly refused to yield his consent unto a wicked statute, the holy and innocent man was so punished, as though he had been the most detestable traitor in the world. What had Thomas More committed, a very good man, and excellently well learned? Had he forged the kings letters patents▪ Haddit he embeseled the kings treasure? Had he killed or grievously inuried any of the kings subjects? No such matter. But only because ●e would not claw and flatter the ●ing, but rather would speak his ●inde freely: they chopped of his head before all the people, as though he had been a felon or traitor. But now what say you to the Carthusians, most virtuous, godly, and religious Fathers, men in pleading at the bar unacqueinted, in the common affairs and practices of the world unskilful? Why were they so cruelly handled? Why were they trussed and hanged upon gibbets? Why were they dismembered and quartered in pieces? Why were they finally burned and consumed with fire? dowbtlesse because they would not with their voice allow and make good a thing, that unto them seemed wicked, heinous, and unworthy to be named. What shall I say of the holy bishops, whom you have laden with irons fetters and chains, whom you have shut up in dark and close prisons, whom you have rob both of goods and honour? Have you any thing else to lay to their charge, but that they would not give their asfent to your statutes, which seemed to them unjust? And therefore it is no wonder, if other men being with such cruel and horrible punishments put in extreme fear be not over bold to declare their mind freely in open place. For where the giving of voices is not free, but forced of men by fear and terror, there reigneth, not the counsel of the whole, but the lust and outrage of a few. You do not therefore sufficiently prove, that those laws were made and allowed by the common agreement and consent of all states. For it is manifest, that they were violently forced, and that who so ever did gainsay them, was extremely punished.  
As touching my humble suit unto the Queen, wherein I besought her Majesty, that, if I were able by good argument to prove, that these authors or brochers of new fanglednes did most dangerously and perniciously err, it might please her to esteem and hold their doctrine as ungodly and detestable: you say, that it is a false accusation without strength of argument: that it proceedeth of stomach, and not of love towards the truth: that it is grounded upon a slander, and not upon reason: that it is a reproach, and not a disputation laid upon the ground work of religion▪ You require of me the very same thing, as I required of your Queen: that is to wit, that if you were able to show, that I had without good cause found fault with the government of your common weal, I should repent me of mine offence.  
First of all, I take Christ jesus to witness (who only knoweth the secrettes of my heart) that I wrote those my letters neither for hatred, neither for displeasure, neither for reproach (as you say) but for earnest good zeal and love I bear to the truth and to the welfare of the whole realm. For what have English men hurt me more than other men? What wrong or displeasure have they done me? Truly never a whit. But contrary wise I have been informed by the letters both of Antonius Augustinus Bishop of Ilerda, a man for his excellent virtues and singular knowledge in the liberal sciences, well deserving the dignity of a bishop together with immortal fame (who was sometime sent from the bishop of Rome legate unto Queen Marie) as also by the letters of john Metellus a Burgonion, a man, whom for his courteous and sweet conversation joined with rare gifts of learning I love very entirely: that many great learned men in England did geave m● a very honourable report. Wherefore there was good cause, why I should rather love English men, than malice or revile them. Neither did I ever think to reprove your common weal, but the corrupt lewdness of a few, which disquieteth the whole realm. And whereas you charge me with curiosity for meddling in a strange common weal: I think it is no strange common weal, but mine own. For I did not reason of the laws of your Realm and civil ordinances, but of Christian religion, for the which I am not afraid to lose my life. And therefore shall I never think any thing to be impertinent to me, whereby I may maintain and set forth the honour of this common weal. Consider now, M. Haddon, how just your request is. This is your demand. If you can convince and manifestly prove, not that I am in any error (for that were tolerable) but that I wrote my epistle for hatred, evil will, and reproach: you require of me to confess my fault and to say that I was over rash, when I took upon me to control your matters, which I knew not. Can you on the other side prove, whereas I meant lovingly, friendly, and religiously, that it was done slanderously, enviously and untruly? But lest you should say, I deal to straightly with you, this much I promise you faithfully. If you be able to prove, not that I wrote for any evil intent (for that is impossible) but that the rearing up of this your newly framed religion is without all fault and blameless, I will repent me of my doing. I am not ignorant, how dangerous a matter it is, to promise thus much to a man of law. But because I have a good affiance, that you shall not be able to cirumvent me with any malicious and crafty fetch of the law, and my desire is to discharge honest men of slanderous reports: I promise you thus much of mine honesty: if you be able to prove, that those fellows be honest, godly, and religious men, which I take to be lewd and wicked verlettes, I will never speak one word against you.  
You take it in snuff M. Haddon, that I deal so boisteously with your new masters, saying that I do oftentimes thunder out against them most horrible and fiery reproaches, yea so much, that man's heart can not devise any thing more detestable. Wherein I perceive that you can not well discern, what an argument, and what a reproach is. For I contended not with reproachful words, but with arguments, such as you can not yet answer. Than you say. Where are these monsters of Religion? What are they? How long have they continued? Where are those misshapen fellows to be found? If you think to shift the manifold arguments which I have used, with such a glittering show of words, you are much deceived. For I look for reasons, and not for a vain noise of words. But that, that you bring in upon this, is a very toy and mockery. Your words be these. Declare the things, name the persons, note the times, add the circumstances, that we may have some certainty, wherein to stand with you, as also to withstand you. I think, M. Haddon, it was long, ere you were set to the Rhetoric school, and that ye were not very apt to learn it. You would be counted a Rhetorician, and yet you know not that Rhetoric is a prudency or discretion in speaking: so that what so ever is against discretion, is not convenient in this art, which you went about to learn at an inconvenient time. There is a rule of the law, usual in iundgementes, which is this. When the question is, not of the law, but of the fact, the offence being secret, we must use all arguments and conjectures possible, to bring the truth of the fact to light. For it must be considered, of what conversation, of what life, of what audacity the party arreined was: it must be weighed, what fear, what desire, what envy, what hatred might move him to commit the fact: it must be declared, what opportunity he had, what time, what occasion, what policy to conceal, what hope to escape, what suspicion went before, what came after, with all other circumstances, which may before the judges increase the suspicion of the fact. Now sir when your master (which as it seemeth, was but meanly seen in these matters) had taught you this rule: you thought it would serve in all causes, not only in judgement, but else where: and therefore you require of me such circumstances as the cause did nothing require. For my meaning was not to accuse any man, but to advertise th● Queen, that she should not suffer herself to be brought to any inconvenience. If you or any such as you are were to be arreined, what? should we, in a matter openly known and not denied, but defended to be lawfully done, use such arguments, conjectures and circumstances as you require? Not so. But it were sufficient to declare, that your doings were heinous and ungodly. And he that should otherwise do, might worthily be laughed to scorn as a trifling and a foolish babbler. Why then Sir? If you neither understand what is decent, neither consider what the cause requireth, neither perceive the difference of things: is it meet, that I should be punished for your ignorance? I think not so. But whereas my meaning was, not to arreine any man, but only to admonish your Prince, that she would put away from herself and her realm the peril that hangeth over them: could I do any less, but set the greatness of the danger before her eyes? And because the greatest danger in the world is, to take a false religion for a true: I showed certain marks, by the which a man might discern false and devilish heresy, from true and godly religion. Those marks, if they be false, reprove them: if they be not manifest, convince me of ignorance: if they offend not you, hold your peace: if unwares I touched you at the quick, show your grief.  
Monsters of Religion I know there are very many, if they be not yet come into England, I am glad for your countries sake: and I confess I was in an error, when I thought that your Island had been pestered with divers and sundry kinds of such monsters. But your bare denial is no sufficient Consutation. You must use manifest proofs: you must declare by good reason, that I was in an error, and then I will say, that you are an eloquent fellow. But if you can not do this, but only prate and talk: I am not bound to believe you. A little after ye say thus. You cry out against religion, you fight against the setters forth of religion, in these two points you use much bitter talk, and yet in neither of them both do you tell us either what it is, or where it is. Sir either you have not read my letters, or if you have, the meaning of them, which is very plain, you understand not (such is peradventure the dullness of your wit). Can any man set forth more plainly with words, the infamous doings of men, the great outrage, and cruel impiety of their procedings? Anon after, ye take a piece as it may appear out of some other man's oration, and set it in for your own, in a place nothing to the purpose. these be your words. This your accusation is very pitiful, the which if I answer but with one word, there is no remedy, you must needs hold your peace. It is even so, sir, you have made a great speak. The things that you have done, the devices and practices that you have wrought, all was done in darkness and huggermugger. There are no witnesses, there remaineth no footsteps to track you ou●, no signs and tokens by the which a man might come to the knowledge of your doings. Then you say thus. You cry, yea with gaping mowth, and that very lamentably: that this newly devised Religion is to be shunned, abandoned, and abhorred, that the beginner's of it were mischievous persons, murderers, cutthroats, poisoners, overthrowers of common weals, enemies of mankind. Surely this talk that you ascribe unto me, is yours, and not mine, how be it I am not angry with you for the devising of it. For such heinous offences would be shaken up with much sharper words than these be. But sir how answer you these things? Full stoutly I warrant you, they can not be denied. Yet thus you say. I constantly affirm, that there is no such thing: I believe not you, I require to be instructed. What say you? What prove you? Oh what an eloquent fellow is this, that can so easily with one clause or sentence, and that very short, shut up the whole matter? How manfully you stand to your defence? How warily you keep out your enemy? In good sooth I can not but muse at your, folly, to see, upon how small occasion (when you have said nothing at all) you fall to crying out, as though you had uttered some excellent matter. I said in that my epistle, that the Virgins or Nuns consecrated unto God, were defiled with incostuous wedlock: I said that the images of Saints, and of the Cross, yea and of Christ himself crucified, were pulled out of their places, and broken in pieces. I said, that the old Religion was overthrown, and a new set up in the place of it. Other things I let pass, reserving them to their convenient places. What saith M. Haddon to all this? All these things confuteth he, like an Orator, with one word: and driveth me to the wall, that I can go no farther. I believe you not, saith he, I require to be instructed. What say you? What prove you? Why then what shall I do? Whether shall I go? M Haddon an English man, a man very expert in the affairs of his country, ●aieth pla●inly, that things that are commonly reported to have been done in England, were never done. If it be so, I must bring witnesses. And principally I will ●ite you to geave witness. If you will confess so much as I require of you, you shall rid me of great trouble. If you deny it, then will I call other witnesses to testify for me, if need shall so require. Afterward you bring in these words. You cry out as loud as you can, heaping together all the villainous words in the world, which, it seemeth, you have sorted out, and set a side for the nonce, to deface this your counterfeit religion, and to stick and kill certain persons, which no man knoweth but yourself. I pray you, M. Haddon, sober yourself a little, but even so long, as you may peruse, again this your talk. You shall see yourself, that you were stark mad, when you wrote these things. For you utter such matter, as neither I, nor you yourself do understand.  
You say, that I do deface my counterfeit religion with words of villainy. I omit the name of counterfeit Religion, as though I had been the author or beginner of any new Religion at all. But how should I myself deface mine own Religion, which I do maintain and with dew praise set out? This would I feign learn of you.  
Then for the persons, which you say I stick, I would gladly understand what they are. As for Luther with his adherentes and followers I take them for most wicked and infamous persons, and such in deed I do a little prick in my writings. These are the persons, which you say no man knoweth but I And you for sooth, know them not: and yet you commend them highly, which is a point of marvelous great oversight in you to commend such as you know not. But you, will neither say so, neither can you well tell, what you would say. Doubtless it were better, to be dumb, then to utter such matter, as no man neither sad nor mad can understand.  
You accuse me that I have defamed your most noble Island, being thereunto brought by pelting rumours of malicious persons. Why then, sir, you grant, that I have devised nothing, but what I have spoken, I was moved to speak by common report. Moreover I have already declared, that I spoke not against the whole Island, as you say, but only against the brochers of your new-fangled Religion.  
Now whereas I said, that heresy and sects are popular, which is very dangerous and noisome to Princes, that mind to rule like kings, (wherein you M. Haddon, find great fault with me) if I prove it not by good reason, I am content, you shall take me, yea and proclaim me as a slanderer. But of this we will talk hereafter.  
The mischievous practise of poison, wherewith it is reported that certain Princes have been killed, you purge with two examples taken out of your ancient Chronicles. For you say, that the Emperor Henry the fourth was made away by the treason of a monk, that gave him the blessed Sacrament infected with poison. You say also that john king of England was by the like man and manner poisoned. I know that both these tales are proved to be slanderous lies by good and approved writers. But to my matter, whether it were so or not, it skilleth little. Neither did I ever say, that before Martin Luther there was no man that could I kill in poison, or that besides him there was never ill monk or friar in the world. But thus much I said, that when such offences are committed in common weals, by men not so well trained in godly life: it were expedient, that they were reformed, by the purity of this your most unspotted discipline, by the wholesome virtue of your gospel, by the goodly redress that your Doctors have brought to the world. The which being nothing so, but all together to the contrary, (for it is manifest that within these thirty years last past many more conspiracies have been wrought against Princes, then in many hundred years before) I may boldly say, that the operation of this your medicine is not so effectual, as you take it to be. Soon after ye say thus. But to rehearse these things particularly unto you, is not needful, which being nearer unto such mischiefs than I am may the better learn out of your neighbour's books: how often the cuppos of poison have walked amongst the Princes and rulers of the Church of Rome▪ and how and by whom the sedes of discord and wars have suffered through all the common weals of the Christian Dominion. You are a wonderful fellow M. Haddon. This obscure and intricate manner of speaking liketh you marvelously well. I pray you what would you say, when you say that I am nearer unto such mischiefs? Mean you that I am nearer, as accessary to such faults? If you say so (as your words seem to import), you are not well acquainted with my manners. If you say, I am of that countrei, where poison is oftentimes given to Princes in meats and drinks, that is false also. For there is no country in the world, where the name of a king is more reverenced then here. If you say that I am nearer unto Rome, where such things are sometimes used, surely you have not well learned the situations and distances of countries. For we are much farther from the city of Rome than you are. Whereas you say, that the seeds of wars have suffered, what your meaning is, I assure you I can not tell. Except peradventure the printer mistook, and for this word Dispersa, put in unwares perpessa.  
As touching the heads or prelate's of the Church, which were made away with poison: I grant that such wicked acts have sometimes been committed. For it chanceth often, that, where a man would least look for it, there reigneth most the heinous vices of covetousness and ambition: out of the which two fountains springeth all evils to the destruction of mankind. Yet this I warn you, that it is much looked for, that the redress of all these evils should proceed from your evangelic discipline, which pretendeth in outward show to make an end of all enormities.  
But sir, what is it, that you bear yourself so hohly, so godly, so religiously, yielding unto God thanks with so kind and mindful heart, for the benefit of this your Gospel. Thus you say. I humbly hold up my hands unto the immortal God, thanking him heartily, that it hath pleased him, by the rising of the son of his Gospel openly ●mongest us, to drive away the most deep darkness of the times past: through the lack of whose knowledge, and through the affiance of superstition, we wallowed before without care in the sink of vice, believing that by the lead of Bulls, and by the mumbling of prayers not understood, was purged, what so ever sin might be committed in this life. What more godly prayer could be devised than this? You thank God, that you are delivered from most perilous darkness, yea and that through the light and shining of the gospel, which was written and set out, not by Matthew, john or any other holy Evangelist, but by Luther, Melanchton, Zwinglius, and such other worshipful squires lately dropped out from heaven. And so being delivered through the benefit of this prosperous and lucky gospel from the stinking ditch of all filthiness, in the which you wallowed before (as you confess yourself) having affiance in superstition: you are now no more subject unto the brands of fleshly lust: you are no more troubled with ambition: you are not occupied in the troublesome cares of covetousness: you are not puffed up with pride and vain glory: you trust no more to fraud, deceit, and lying. For it is like, that having received the brightness of heavenly light, ye despised forth with all worldly things, and were inflamed with the desire of heavenly life, yea and (that more is) of the divine nature itself. Who can deny, if this be so, but that so wonderful an alteration of life doth most manifestly declare the very presence of Christ himself? But I would feign learn this of you, whether you alone in all England, do enjoy these so great benefits, or whether they be common to all such, as have received the brightness of your new gospel. If you alone have the fruition of this light with so great fruit of the heauēl● virtue: the glittering of this new gospel hath brought no great commodity to your country. for it should have furthered, not any one particular man, but the whole common weal. Oh say you, every one. for as the son rising driveth away the darkness from the eyes of all men: even so the brightness of this gospel putteth away the mist that was cast over all men's hearts. All things are now laid open, all things are come to light. There are no faults in the world, no wicked offences, no heinous crimes, no, none at al. Theridamas is great good cause, if this tale be true, why we should forsake our own countrei, and come to dwell in England, that we might be partakers of this your felicity with you. For what could a man desire more of God, then always to behold such a countrei, where, for the greater part, neither covetousness, norsensualitie, nor hatred, nor pride, nor contention, nor rashness, nor any other spot of unclean life may take place. But, Sir, I pray you: What was the let, why you used no justice or godliness, before this new son beams shone upon you? Horrible superstition, you say. for we believed, that through the virtue of a piece of lead, and the mumbling of a few prayers, which we understood not, all our offences were forgiven us, what soever we had done in this world. What say you? is it to be thought you were all so mad, that you would think a sin conceived in the heart to be forgiven through the virtue of a piece of lead, or by the pronouncing of prayers, the mind being otherwise occupied? What a great dullness of wit was that? what a strange folly? who had put that error into your hearts? Were there no men amongst you learned in the holy scriptures, to teach you, that all the hope of salvation consisteth in the grace and mercy of Christ? Truly I hold up my hands most humbly unto the immortal God (as you pretend to do) yielding him most hearty thanks, that it was my chance to be borne and brought up in spain, where no man (if he be a Christian) was ever so foolish as to think, that there is any other way to purge sin, but only by the grace and goodness of Christ. The which to attain, the necessary and only mean is according to the doctrine of Christ himself, to detest and forsake vice, to confess our sins committed with bashfulness and sorrow, to withdraw ourselves from sensuality to continency, from vice to honesty, from malice to charity, to enter into a new trade of life, and to exercise ourselves in holy works. Now sir, of you trusted so much to lead, that ye thought it of force to blot out sin: you were not well in your wit. If you say that all England was in the like blindness, you bring a great slander of madness upon your country, that hath brought you up and placed you in so great worship. No, say you, I say not so. But I mean by the name of lead, in the which we saw the name and image of the bishop of Rome engraved, the authority and jurisdiction of the Pope him sel●e, the which many hundred years ago, was holden and esteemed as a thing very holy, of our Fathers and afterward of us. This authority, which we sometime reverenced, being now instructed by the most clear doctrine of this gospel, I do neglect, despise, contemn, and think it to be esteemed as a thing of nought of all wise men. Why then, M. Haddon, what needed you the name of lead to signify this authority? Did you it, to make it more odious? Or rather thought you by jesting at the word to get the greater applause of your companions? For I know, that pleasant sporters, as you be, are much delighted with jesting, and like to contend not so much with arguments and sentences, as with scoffing, and (as it seemeth to me) with an unsavoury kind of prattling. In such like scoffs and taunts Martin Luther your youthlie Patriarch and old wanton was a great doer. And I dowbt not but some of your clawebackes, when he came to this place, took up a great laughter, and bound it with an oath, that it was marvelous pleasantly spoken, and excellently well handled. For all things are so far out of course and due order, that it is a very easy matter for a saucy reproachful scoffer, to get the name of a merry fellow and pleasant companion.  
But as concerning this matter, although the Bishop of Angra hath disputed very learnedly of the authority of the Bishop of Rome: yet will I reason with you (as with a seculare man and civilian) of the said matter in few words. First of all let this be a 
The Monarchy of the Church.  ground work or foundation. The Church of Christ is one and not many. Then let this be agreed upon. It is not enough for a Prince, which maketh laws to establish a common weal, to set them out, except he also appoint governors and inferior magistrates. Let this also be the third ground. (for so much as you like well mine opinion as touching the order of a Monarchy) that it is most expedient for a common Weal well appointed with customs and laws, to be under the rule of one Prince. For many do tear and dismember a common weal, but one by supreme authority uniteth and as it were with glue, joineth together the hearts of the people. It was therefore most agreeable to the best manner of government, when the Prince of all Princes (under whose everlasting Empire are subjecteth both heaven and earth) intended to set up a heavenly common weal in earth: that he should first make Laws, and then create Princes and Magistrates, which might according to the prescribed order of Laws and equity, rule this common weal. Such were the Apostles and the rest of the Disciples of Christ. Last of all, lest the band of this society might be dissolved, and the peace of the City distourbed: he appointed a Monarchy, and gave the supreme government thereof unto Peter. Are not these things commonly known of all men? imagine you to obscure and darken things most clearly spoken? Trust you so much to your malice, that you think yourself able to wrest the words of the Gospel from the true meaning, to serve the filthy appetite and lust of you and your companions? I pray you what can be spoken more plainly and clearly then 
Mat. 16. c.  those words? Thou art Peter, saith Christ, and upon this rock I will build my Church. And what so ever thou shalt bind upon the earth, it shallbe bound 
Luc. 22. d.  in heaven. And again. I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not, and thou being turned, confirm thy brethren. And many other places of like effect, which do manifestly prove, that Peter had a Prerogative above the rest of the Apostles. But you will say for all this, that these testimonies of the holy scriptures, which we have alleged, are expounded far otherwise of the new Apostles. I will set against the authority of your Apostles, the authority of S. Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, Basile and all other holy men, that have with their writings given light to the Church of Christ. But now your Doctors will answer, that although it be true that the supreme authority was granted to Peter, yet followeth it not, that it was given to his successors also. Why then I ask you an other question. Did Christ set up a Church to continue but for one man's life? Or else minded he to establish it for ever? If he appointed, that his Church should stand so little time, he did not so great a thing, as was to be looked for of his infinite bounty and wisdom: for so much as he bestowed so much labour and diligence, yea and shed so much blood about a common weal, whose continuance was limited within the bounds of so short time. If he minded that his church should continued for ever: then doubtless he set it in such order, as should in all changes and alterations of times be maintained and kept. If it be then evident (as it is most evident and plain) that Peter had a Superiority over the rest of the Apostles: it must needs follow, that the same pre-eminence or principality, of right appertaineth to all such as have succeeded in Peter's room and charge. Or else, in the Church of Christ, which is one, it might seem there was ordained not the order of the heavenvly Monarchy, but the government of many. And then what knot or band of concord were there in the Church? By whose authority should the tempests risen in it be assuaged? By whom should seditious opinions and sects be rooted out? By whom should pride and stubbornness be restrained and kept under: if there had been no man appointed in the Church from the beginning, by whose authority all men should be kept in order? No we for so much as the church of Christ is simple and one: and one it can not be, unless there be in it one only Prince: furthermore being evident and plain, that Christ ordained one only ruler in his Church, whom all men should acknowledge and obey: finally being out of all doubt, that this pre-eminence appertaineth to the Successors of Peter, and that none of all the ancient Fathers endued with the spirit and grace of God ever doubted, but that the bishops of Rome were the successors of Peter (as both their writings, and the common agreement of the universal Church declareth): with what spirit were your new Apostles moved to bring in this new Gospellish doctrine, to disturb the order appointed by Christ, to break the band of unity and concord, to shake the very Rock and stay of the Church. But lest some man should think, that these things were wrought of them without any cause in the world, I will briefly declare, what their devise, or rather what the fetch of Satan was in this enterprise. It was unpossible that ever the pestilent sects should gather any strength, except the authority of the Bishop of Rome had been first weakened. For how could the mischievous weed have grown any long time, whereas it was a very easy matter with the authority of the Bishop of Rome▪ forthwith to cut it down, so soon as it appeared above the ground. Take us (saith the spouse of 
Caut, 2. d.  Christ) the little foxes, that destroy the Vineyards. This request of the spouse who shallbe able to fulfil, if noman have authority to suppress the malice and lewdness of heretics, before it wax great? For it is manifest that by the foxes are understood heretics. And therefore S. Paul in his second epistle to the 
2. Thessaly. 2. b.  Thessalonians saith, that Antichrist shall not come before: he great revolting or departure from the catholic Church of Christ. It is therefore necessari for these young Antichrists, which (as S. johnsaieth) do in figure and signification represent the great antichrist to come, before they can bring their purposed mischief to pass, not only to departed themselves from the Church, and from the supreme ruler of it, but also to solicit and procure to the like departure all such as they mind to carry away, and make their disciples: and this is the cause that all heretics, whose chief endeavour and principal intent is to overthrow the catholic Church, do first of all assail this fortress, do here plant their ordinance, do here make their battery, do here undermine to overrhrow the fort. For they see, that if this fortress were once overthrown and won, they may freely sow the seeds of all naughtiness, and to the ruin and decay of many, flee up and down through the world, whether so ever they list, without any control or check. And to pass over the old Heretics, this was the cause why Hus●e endeavoured to overthrow the authority of the Bishop of Rome This was also the meaning of Jerome of prague, when he went about to weaken the authority of the said bishop This was the way, by the which FrierLuther thought utterly to destroy the Catholic church. This was the train, by the which in England a gap was unadvisedly opened to all such errors, as sense that time have followed. Now the rails and bars being after this manner broken down, and the gates laid wide open, it was a very easy matter for all vile and desperate fellows to rush in, to mangle and tear in peeoes the unity of the Church, to bring in so many wicked errors, such horrible sects, such a rabble of pestilent opinions, one directly against an other▪ The Zwinglians fight against the Lutherans. The Anabaptists keep continual war with the Zwinglians. What should I here rehearse the heretics called heavenly Prophets, the Interimnists, and such other names of sectaries? What should I say of the hatred, malice brawling, and discord within themselves? What should I speak of their variety and inconstancy in opinions? Yea and such as are of one sect, are not all, nor always of one opinion. Many points of their Doctrine they correct, they altar and change, the● turn in and out, they blot out the old, they make new, now they pull down, and now they set up, they can not well agree neither with other men, nor yet with themselves. What say you to this Sir? Are not these things true? Can you say, that all such as are sprung of Martin Luther, are thoroughly agreed? that there is amongst them no debate, no discord, no diversity of opinions, but contrarily most perfect agreement in matters of faith and religion? O M. Haddon how much better had it been to reverence that piece of lead, which you so much scorn at▪ then to open a way to so many, yea and those so pestilent errors? But let us return to your Oration. These are your words.  
But the authority of the holy Scriptures hath thundered in our ears, and hath made us so afraid, that casting away the devices of men, we run only to the free mercy of God. What is this? Do you so requite Luther, to whom you are bound for this singular benefit? For it was he that drove all fear out of your hearts. What terror is this that you speak of? What fear? What carefulness of mind? Such is the faith, that Luther devised, as being once well planted in your heart, no fear in the world shall ever be able to shake the quietness and security of your conscience. And, me thinketh, that it is not to be borne, that you say, you do despise the devices of men. For you are not so far forward in the way of heavenly life, but that you make good account of some men. For the devices of Luther, Zwinglius, Bucer, Calvin, and such other as were the founders of this your new common weal, you have learned them, you have greedily snatched them up, yea you have with heart and mind embraced them, striving within yourselves, who should be foremost in them, finally you have decreed to frame the order of your life after their direction. Whereby we gather, you look not so steddilie to heavenward, but that sometimes you look down upon men. And well done too surely. For right and reason requireth, that you should always have both in your eyes and hearts such men as they were, so chaste, so holy, and so religious. But yet this much I tell you by the way, your mind was not so fervently inflamed with the love of heavenly things, but that you did highly esteem some men withal. Admit that Friar Luther had been a holy man (even as holy as you list to make him) that Melanchon had been void of all earthly affection: that Zuinglius for the marvelous report of sincere and chaste life had been admitted to be one of Gods own privy counsel: that Bucer had excelled all men in clean, honest, and chaste conversation: that Caluine had passed in virtue and holiness bernard, Anselme, Augustine, Jerome, Basile, and all other holy men, that have lead an angelic life here upon the earth: yea add unto these (if it please you) even your own Martyr, whose rare virtue you commend so highly: Admit I say, that these men had been most excellently furnished with all the highest virtues, yea and most chaste withal: yet were they men, and it is not impossible, but that they might have been in some errors. And yet do you esteem their laws, decrees, and ordinances, as a discipline of most high wisdom, and as a most holy rule of man's life. With what face then say you, that you despised, and rejected the devices of men, whereas you do ascribe unto those men that I have here named, almost a divine perfection? But now let us consider the end of your oration. Soon after you bring in this clause. Having in like manner regard unto the saying of the Prophet, where he commandeth us, that we should conform the innocency of our life unto holiness and justice. In this place I marveled exceedingly, not at you, M. Haddon (for it is not credible, that so grave a man as you be, should lie so impudently) but at the slanderous report of men, which with feigned tales, and forged complaints (abusing us being strangers, and ignorant (as you say) of your affairs have made us believe that you conform you selves, not unto holiness of life by the law of God, but unto licentious lewdness through unbridled lust and bold presumption. And the doctrine of that mad fellow Martin Luther made it seem the more probable, the which condemning wickedly all good works, and burning at a sermon the Canons and holy ordinances of the Church, and teaching for a sound doctrine this presumptuous affiance, unto the which alone he ascribeth salvation, calling it rashly and impudently by the name of faith, and putting quit out of men's hearts all fear of laws both of God and man, setteth out sensuality in her full strength and force, giveth fleshly lust free scope and liberty, pretendeth hoop of impunity, boldeneth men to all sin and wickedness. Wherefore I thought it impossible, that a man observing his precepts, should withal give his mind to justice, virtue and religion, or take great care how to keep himself chaste and honest. For it is the part of a wise man, when he seeth the cause to doubt nothing of the event. And it is commonly seen, that naughty beginnings have the like ending. What should I then do? Seeing just cause of infamy, hearing it most commonly, yea and sadly reported, that you are in far worse case, than you pretend to be: weighing withal the constant fame, which is, that such as follow this new religion, are not only subject to fleshly and unclean living, but also much increased in all wicked and heinous vices: should I not believe it? Should I stand against most credible persons reporting it? Should I without any ground, without witnesses, vainly contend, seeing the common agreement of all men confirming this opinion? I could not do it. Wherefore if that be false, which was constantly and not without inward sorrow of all good men reported, you must pardon me, and lay the fault unto the lightness and impudency of certain men bearing you no good will, which were the devisers of this false report. But if it be true that is reported, then are you a very mad man, if you think by lying and facing to wash out the spot of true infamy.  
Here you muse again what I meant to advertise your Queen, to beware of such as are infected with these heresies. And here I tell you again, that, when I come to that place, I will do my endeavour so to handle it, that you shall no more muse at it.  
You declare unto me the felicity of your Queen, that she aboundeth in riches, that she liveth in prosperity, that she feareth no treason, neither of her own subjects, neither of foreigners. I am right glad of it, and I pray God grant her always a good, prosperous and flourishing reign. Yet is it the part of a wise Prince, in calm weather to think of a storm, and to consider long time before, not when the mariners themselves begin to tremble and quake▪ how to save herself: and seeing with what tempests the majesty of other Princes hath been ruffled in divers and sundry realms, to mistrust, that her majesty also may experience the like fortune. Of the tempest in France, the which you say is assuaged, I say nothing else, but that you bear witness against your own self. For, I pray you Sir, who stirred up that tempest? Who armed the French m●n against the King of 
The rebellion in France.  France? What discipline or instruction had they, which contrary to their oath taken in the face of the world, conttarie to they▪ allegiance towards their Prince, finally contrary to the majesty and reverence of kingly name, set themselves in armour against the Kings own person, not only traitorously and villainously to dispatch the King out of his life, but also to abolish the name of a King utterly out of the common weal? And you say, the tempest is assuaged. As though I had said that, what so ever such traitors had most wickedly and rebelliusly devised, must needs have a prosperous success. No, no. Their wicked attempt was repressed by policy and force, and especially by the great grace and benefit of God: it is nothing long of them, that (like rebels) made war against their prince. For to have brought their purpose to a mischievous end, there lacked not in them any good will, but strength and power.  
My discourse of the contempt of worldly things and desire of heavenly things you mislike not: but you are mad angry with me, because I call such men enemies of Religion, as you say were the servants of God, and sent from heaven for the salvation of the world▪ and it grieveth you, that I should laugh at their vain and foolish attempts. Tell me I pray you Sir, what take those fellows upon them, which were sent, as you say from heaven? doubtless, to deliver Christian men from error, thoroughly to purge the Church, to restore the doctrine and rule of the Apostles life, to set the truth at liberty, which was, as you say, oppressed with covetousness and ambition, to pull dreams and superstition out of men's hearts. I said this was a great vaunt. But Sir, this kingdom of God which they took upon them to maintain▪ this glory of God, for the which they have entered into so great a conflict, doth it consist in words only, or in the working of virtue? Surely if we believe S. Paul, it standeth in the strength and constant working of virtue: wherefore if they mind to prove themselves honest men, let them restore the old modesty, humility, patience, meekness, obedience, chastity, purity, innnocentie, the chastising of the body, the continual war both against the tyranny of the flesh, as also against all other vices: let them restore that earnest love and servant charity, that continual meditation of heavenly things, that godly exercise of prayer unto God both day and night for the prosperous estate and salvation of all men: Let them take up the cross on their shoulders, and crucify all uncleanness of sins: let them forsake all pleasures of the world: let them pull up by the root the very strings of carnality▪ finally let them mortify all the unbridled passions of their wills: that nothing live in them, but the power and will of Christ, and then will we believe, that they have fulfilled their promise, and quit themselves like true men of their word. But if they have done no such thing, but rather by their examples of life and doctrine have brought to pass, that men live more freely in all kind of vice, that they are the readier to commit sacrilege, that they are the bolder to venture upon any vile, and heinous offence, that they are the fierser and creweller (yea more desperate than any man's heart can think) to do villainy and violence to their Princes, for whose safety they ought to hazard their own lives: if they forgetting Religion bend themselves wholly against religion: is it not plain, that they are not only to be scorned and laughed at, but also to be abhorred, and detested as the most horrible and crewel pestilence of a common weal?  
Well well, say you, I perceive at the length, what this your new sect is, against the which you have so sharply whetted your eloquence. Oh what a pleasure youhave to speak doubtfully and obscurely? What say you M. Haddon? Say you that you do at length understand, what my new sect is? Say you that I do maintain any new-fangled sect? that I do allow their wicked acts, which I accurse and detest? That I am fallen from the faith and Religion of the holy Catholic Church? And then how stand these things together, that I should whet my eloquence against that sect, which (as you sai) I follow myself? Moreover, by what argument can you prove it? You have peradventure heard say, that I was a voluptuous man, given to pleasure and uncleanness of life, desirous of novelties, hasty and headlong to make sedition, debate and discord amongst men. And therefore you think peradventure▪ that I am entangled with the like detestable vices, as your Masters are. But consider, I pray you, how these things, that follow, may stand together with this your most impudent suspicion. At the length, say you, I see the adversaries, whom you would have to be cut of from the queens majesty, and driven out as the corrupters of the whole realm. Why then, if you see, that I am earnestly bend against all such as are the brochers of new-fangled sects: if you say plainly, that I would, they should be driven far from the presence and familiarity of the Queen, that they should be banished out of the bounds of England: doubtless, neither do these innovations like me, neither do I allow their wicked doings. But how do you defend them yourself? I am, say you, of a contrary opinion. These professors of the Gospel are the servants of God, sent us from heaven, to awake our sleapines in these dangerous times of the world growing now to old age, and to stir up our slowness. These are wondered matters that you say, if slepines may be awaked, or slowness stirred up. So may fear bear itself hardily, and the pleasure of the body restrain vice and uncleanness of life, and mad rashness well and wisely govern a common weal▪ Then it followeth. They were sent from heaven to confute error, to reprove impiety: and therefore they are to be sought out of the queens Majesty, and to be much made of in all the common weal. When ye spoke these words, you thought to reprove me of lightness, for believing otherwise, of presumption, for writing unto the Queen. You say furthermore, that it is not necessary to discuss particularly every point of my accusation, but only to gather them, as it were into certain heads, and so briefly to run them over. Then you add these words. I will, if I can, put back the very horns of your accusation. I would feign see with what manhood and strength you will begin the matter. It followeth. First of all, you say we must consider the persons, because they promise nobly, and we must weigh, whether they be of ability to perform it, whether they have so much virtue and holiness as they pretend. This would I feign see. But for so much as, this holiness, which you speak of, must be declared in works, not craked of in words (for so doth Christ teach us to discern the true 
Math. 7. ●.  prophets from the false by the iru●cte of works, not by the brag or vaunt of words) I look you should she we me the miracles that these holy men have wrought: the which being declared, you shall be the better able to put back the horns of my disputation. For of the words I am nothing afraid, the which in appearance are marvelous goodly and gate. And this, I warrant you, is the first lewd point in all Heretics, to cloak their wily traps with most holy words. For 
The wi● lines of heretics  by what other means might they allure the minds of the simple people, but only by a feigned show of holiness and innocency? For virtue naturally inviteth and draweth all men unto her. The which thing these subtle and crafty fellows knowing well enough, they do on the habit of virtue, the sooner thereby to creep into the bosoms and hearts of unlearned folks. For as the fowlers deceive the birds: either with some bait, or else with instruments resembling the voice and tune of the birds: even so do your doctors by setting out the gaze of counterfeit holiness, they bring unto their snares the simple people, where unwares and suspecting no deceit, they are taken. For open dishonesty could do little harm, (being of herself very foul and deformed to behold) except she did bear the countenance or face of honesty and innocency. But feel pray you, what policy these plausible and good fellows have found out to stir up the common people. We were all sorry to see the manners of men corrupted, the straightness of old discipline relented, the Priests wallowing in unclean life, and abusing their dignity immoderately to gain and lucre. Now, as it happened sometimes in the City of Rome, the furious Tribunes of the people, when the like occasion was offered them, to stir up the commons against the nobility, did not let it pass, but the envy which was already to much kindled, they made to burn, putting underneath, the fierbrands of their troublesome and seditious orations: in like manner these most holy persons, whom you commend so highly, when they saw into how great hatred the church men were come: they thought to use all means possible in the world to bring them into farther hatred and displeasure. And so, what by finding fault with them, and what by putting the people in hope of a better world, they showed themselves as ringleaders in this sedition and falling from the church. And the better to bring their purpose to pass, they used many goodly and holy words, bearing men in hand, that they would express the holy life, not of the Saints that came near after the Apostles rule (for of them they made none account) but of the Apostles themselves. And so they had always in their mouths, Christian piety, the purity of the Gospel, the holiness of most chaste Religion, a heavenly discipline, the which to distain with any devices or superstitions (as they term it) of man, they took it to be a most heinous offence. After that they brought all men into great hope and expectation, that the very perfection of the Primitive Church should by their diligence be restored, and that the wonderful gifts of the holy Ghost▪ which now were thought to be stark dead, should be revived 〈◊〉. This goodly beginning how plausible it was to the world, every man may judge. But naughtiness can never stay long in one degree: but when it hath once begun to slide, it rusheth forward, and falleth down headlong. To get therefore the greater favour amongst the people, what so ever seemed to them any thing rough or unpleasant, they took it quite away. To confess their sins, was very troublesome: to punish their body with fasting, was painful: to be tied with the band of Excommunication, was a vexation of mind: to be shaken with the threatenings of God's judgement, was bitter. They did therefore most earnestly endeavour themselves, to take all such cares out of men's hearts. Wherefore it is no wonder, if the simple people, being partly offended with the misliving of the Church men (which all the world talked of) and partly brought into great hope of a golden world and most pleasant liberty, did willingly apply themselves to the fantasy of those men, by whom they surely trusted to be delivered▪ from all evils, and to have the fruition of all felicity and pleasure. But when the fury of the common people was now armed with this sergeant show of Religion (good Christ) how garishly these your holy men ran to the spoil of the Churches? What great slaughters of men they made? What a great alteration of things followed by and by, with the decay of all▪ Godliness? And yet you M● Haddon make them equal with Ath●nasius, Basile, Ambrose, Jerome, and Augustine. If they are to be tried by their works, as Christ teacheth, who are rruly sent from God, and on the other side, who are pricked forward of the devil to do mischief: if I can see no holy works that your prophets have done: if you yourself can not declare any excellent virtues in them: if you can bring no holy works for proof of their heavenly virtue: what cometh into your mind, to compare men for chastity of life most clean, for godly religion most holy, for authority of sentences most grave, with them, whom all the world knoweth to be, for filthiness of life infamous, for their ungodly attempts church-robbers, for their undiscreet laws and ordinances, fran tik and mad men. But it is worth while to consider how you prove it: thus you say. Neither show you any thing, why they may not be equal with the ancient Fathers. Yes surely, I will show something, and show withal, how shameless you are, which compare unbridled fleshliness, with cleanness of life, impiety with godliness, raiging madness with godly wisdom. Then you say.  
But I will bring you away from these odious comparisons, for this is no place to reason these matters. Yes M. Haddon, I will be so bold as to reason with you. If this be true, that in giving of counsel the manners and behaviour of the giver, is to be weighed, and that nothing induceth us more to credit the counsel given, then the tried honesty of the person: I say plainly, that it is a question worthy to be asked, of what manners and conversation they are, that give us counsel to follow their opinion. You say afterward. I will uphold that our Doctors do agree with the reverend Fathers, that they take the very same way that they did, that they teach in effect the self same religion. I would you were able to defend, that the ancient fathers and your doctors were well agreed. Then it followeth. The which if it be true, it booteth not to make comparison between such as are alone. If it be not so, tell us wherein they disagree. You say well, if it be so. But before I begin to declare, how much the ancient Fathers dissented from your new masters, I will tarry a little to see how you can prove this goodly agreement. S. Augustine, say you, complatneth in his time, that flouddes of ceremonies overflowed the Church, in so much that the Christians were almost in worse case, than ever were the jews. You never read that in S. Augustine▪ that the Ceremonies, which we now use, are like to the jewish ceremonies, and therefore to be rejected: but your masters have brought you like an ignorant fellow to believe it. S. Jerome, say you, wisheth that the holy scriptures, which your Church hideth from all men, might be learned without the book, even of children and women. S. Jerome writing to Paulinus, disputeth to the contrary, where he complaineth of the rashness and boldhardines of men, which took upon them without any good wit or virtue to handle the Scriptures with to much liberty: and of the undiscrete chatting of foolish women, which taking upon them to expound Scriptures, defined many things very unadvisedly. It followeth. Basile employed his vacant time in the most godly exercise of reading and teaching divinity. It was well done truly. for Basil was none of them that take upon them arrogantly to teach doctrine that they never learned. Then you add these words.  
If Monks had live according to the rules of Basile, no man would ever have touched them with so much as his finger. As though your quarrel had been against men, and not against chastity itself. But admit that their manners were lose, their behaviour dissolute, their life wanton. What then? was there none amongst them all, that kept their chastity? There were without doubt. And that the love of clean, and chaste life was not utterly decayed 'em ngest monks, the end of the holy fathers the Carthusians declared full well, who, if they would have yielded their consent to the wicked decrees, needed never to have suffered other punishment but only to be married. It was not therefore the misliking of filthy pleasure, that stirred you to such barbarous cruelty, but the hatred of chastity and virginity. And I know well, that not only they were chaste and perfect men, but also many other that are now banished among us: the which wheresoever they set their foot, they leave behind them most manifest footsteps of bashfulness and honesty. But admit that the greater part of them had been drowned in vice: was it therefore good reason by and by, to overthrow the whole order? How much had it been more for your honesty, to have done as the most puissant King Fernandus did sometime in spain and Elizabeth his wife, a Princess consecrated to everlasting fame? as the most honourable king and renowned Prince Emanuel: as john the third his son, a King for his religion and godliness worthy of most high commendation: as Charles the fifth an emperor born to immortal glory: as Euricus the Cardinal son of king Emanuel, in whom shineth a wondered light of all virtue and holiness: finally as all other most religious Princes did: who seeing the manners of monks to tend towards a niceness, sent for certain perfect religious men, by whose diligence their unbridled affection and licentiousness was tied up, their lose manners by straighter discipline restrained, and their sleapie minds stirred up to the most fervent love of godliness. And so there are now amongst us most holy and religious Monks, which follow Basile, Benet, and bernard, and Dominique, and Francis, in the purity of most chaste religion, in most earnest and zealous love of God, in most notable examples of all virtue. Why then would you rather cut of that, that might have been healed? Because, as I said a little before, it was not any displeasure toward filthy lust or life, but the hatred of perpetual chastity, that stirred you to 
Heretics enemies to chastity.  deface and vtte●lie to overthrow the name of Mounkes. For (as S. Jerome ●aith) all Heretics have a natural hatred and grudge against chastity. Wherefore there is no doubt, but that, if your Mounkes had lived according to the rules of S. Basile: the greater their perfection had been, the more displeasure and hatred you would have born them. Afterward you bring in these words.  
We reverence the Crede of Athanasius as it ought to be, neither is there any controversy between them and us. What great discord there is between your men and Athanasius, I have partly declared in that my letter, which you so much revile. Neither skilleth it much, whether you be agreed in some points yea or no. For I never said, that your Championsdissented from the opinion of the holy Fathers in all matters. But to what end tendeth all this talk? what would you prove? For soothe, that Luther, Bucer, Zwinglius, Oecolampadius, Caluine and other the Ministers of this your gospel, are in virtue, holiness, chastity, and religion, nothing inferior to S. Augustine, Jerome, Basile, and Athanasius and other holy Fathers, whose writings seem to send forth the very sweet savour of the holy ghost. But how do you prove it? S Augustine you say, complaineth, that whole bloods of ceremonies overflowed the Church: S. Jerome thought it expedient, that women and children should learn the scriptures without the book: If Monks lived according to the rule of S. Basile, no man would once lay his singer on them: and we reverence the Crede of Athanasius. What then? Can you prove by these propositions, that Luther and Bucer, and the rest of your Worthies are to be compared with S. Augustine, Jerome, Basile, Athanasius in virtue, constancy, chastity, cleans of life, religion and wisdom? A goodly pregnant wit of a young Logician: he shaketh out his arguments so fiercely, that he maketh them fit to conclude, what so ever him lifts to prove. Let this form of reasoning be once received, and what thing is there in the world so much contrary to all reason, that may not easily be proved▪ As if we should say for example: Mahumete saith, that God created the world. S. Basile holdeth the same. Basile therefore and Mahumete are most like in godly life. Arius confessed, that Christ shed his blood for the redemption of mankind. Athanasius affirmeth the same. Ergo, Arius shined in virtuous conversation no less than Athanasius. Luther disputeth that all good things are to be referred to the grace of Christ: the very same doth S. Augustine declare most wisely. It followeth therefore, that Luther hath deserved no less commendation of holiness, then S. Augustine. See you not, understand you not, consider you not, how childishly you have concluded, how weakly you have defended your new Masters? Are you wont in skirmish so to put back the horns of your enemies? This was the principal and chiefest point of all, in the which you should have showed all the force and strength of your wit, to have brought all the world in admiration of you.  
You say afterward that I do taunt and revile the soul of Luther. As though the mind of Luther did not yet live in all such as follow his doctrine. You call the same Luther the man of God. I know not what you are M. Haddon. But if it were lawful to esteem by conjecture, what manner of man you are, I see no cause why I should greatly commend either your wit, or your life▪ for he that giveth the testimony of divine virtue or heavenly conversation to a most filthy and infamous person, we may worthily suspect, that he is himself subject unto the like vices. Your words are these. This man of God, whom you reproachfully call a mad man, in open assemble before Charles the fift, gave a sober and sound account of his faith. That is false. You might better say, that in the presence of the Emperor himself, he most impudently betrayed his own madness. And, that he was not punished for so doing, it was, because he had received before hand the emperors safe conduct for his indemnity, in case he spoke any thing not agreeable to holy religion. You say. This mad man stood fast and in safety thirty years, in spite of all the politic and wise patrons of your Church, were they never so madly bend to make him out of the way. In these words you do not defend Luther, but you rejoice and triumph at the ruin of the Church. I know that the outrage of Luther hath been fortified and maintained by the aid of Princes, and by the fury of the common people: and I confess that it hath so come to pass for our sins. For as God in the old time to punish the sins of his people, stirred up enemies against them, minding by punishment and plagues to bring them back to honest civility and godly religion: even so in ou● time hath he suffered Luther, and permitted his madness to be bolstered and borne out by the help of many men, meaning by plagues of his wisdom appointed, to call us home again to the fervent love and following of true godliness. But whereas you say, that Luther stood fast and in safety: surely you know not wherein safety standeth, if you be of that mind, that it is rather a misery to be punished for sin, then to live in sin. Furthermore the patrons of the Church (as it liketh you to call them) pierced him thorough with their writings, and set out his name to all the posterity, dishonested with the fowl spots of his most heinous and filthy life. As for the thirty years, in the which you boast he stood so fast, you need brag no more. For the name of Mahumete, which hath continnued above nine hundred years, remaineth yet in very great honour and estimation amongst such men, as do follow that wicked and detestable sect. But Erasmus, say you, giveth unto this mad man a singular good testimony of innocency by these words. The doctrine of Luther many men mislike, but his life they do with one voice allow. I do not so much esteem Erasmus, that I think myself bound to set my hand to his testimonial in all matters. And yet I know, that Erasmus wrote against Luther, (howbeit not so earnestly as the cause required). For he feared the furious and reproachful talk of the fellow.  
You accuse me for saying, that Luther was Popular, and withal you demand of me, what I mean by the word Popular. I will do so much for you, that you may understand, how fitly the word may be applied to Luther. 
Popular what it is.  They were sometimes called Popular, which sought the common profit of the people, and endeavoured themselves by strength and diligence to rescue the impotent and poor men, when wrong was offered them by such as were of greater force and power. This name therefore was in those days much esteemed and highly commended Now whereas it is the property of flattery to counterfeit virtue, and under the pretenced colour of honesty and gentleness privily to creep into the hearts of the simple people: the crafty and malicious fellows, whose only bent was to attain to honour, perceiving that such as were Popular, were in greatest estimation amongst the people, and by common agreement promoted to the highest rooms of honour: endeavoured themselves to seem Popular. And these men considered very curiously, not what was in deed good and profitable for the people, but what they liked and longed most after as profitable unto them. And as it fareth now a 
Claw● backs of the court.  days with many servitors in court that hunt after the favour of Kings, they spy out diligently, not what standeth most with the kings profit and honour, but what they most covet, what they love, and what they would feignest bring to pass, serving only their unlawful pleasure and unruled affection: even so amongst free peoples did those men, whom we call popular, the Grecians called them 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to wit, leaders of the people: they applied themselves, not to the profit, but to the pleasure of the people. For the profit of the people consisteth in a good and discrete moderation of things: but through inordinate greediness of the thing that they lust after, and through the name of liberty, it is brought to nought. The common people envied such as were men of power. These Populares made laws, by the which they were either deprived of their goods, or banished out of their country, or put to death. The people could not away with severity of laws. The laws therefore, that seemed any thing straight, in restraining the unbridled affections of the people, the Populares took quite away. The people hated virtue, because they saw, it stood directly against their untamed outrages: the Populares with their decrees and ordinances dispatched all virtue out of their common weals, and so by the means of these Populares, the people might without control or check do what them listed. But to conclude, such as came to honour by this means, served the filthy lust, the vicious desire, the unclean affection, and the furious rage of the base people: and did so bear themselves in every office, that it might full well appear, that they were no free men, but the very bondslaves of the undiscreet and mad people. And the better to bring this matter to pass they marked very diligently, not only what the people longed for, but also whom they envied at for wealth and richesse: and so brought all men of power and richesse to be envied, stirred up the most earnest hatred of the commons against their Princes, set fire unto the hot rage of the multitude, therewith to consume and waste all such as were in high authority and honour in their common weals. But how did they profit the people? Full well I warrant you. For even those things, that the people most thirstily gaped after, were utterly overthrown. For whereas the nature of the people is such, that they can not bear to much wealth and prosperity: having once attained the liberty: which they so much wished for, they fall together by the ears within themselves, they rage and ruffle, they toss and turmoil, and in the end they wreck their anger and malice even upon them, that were the procurers of this liberty. And so, (whereas nothing can long continue, where discord and madness reigneth) it cometh to pass, that they lose not only the liberty and impunity by the diligence and flattery of these Populars procured, but also their honest and lawful liberty, which they might otherwise have kept long time. These are they, that are wont to be called Populars.  
Now it remaineth, that we declare, whether friar Luther were Popular after this manner. Is there any doubt in the world of the matter? What other thing, I pray you, intended Luther, but only to flatter the people? All such things as the people hated and loathed, did he not take them quite away? The authority of the Bishop of Rome, did he not utterly deface it? The holy Canons, did he not abrogate and disannul them? Did he not stir up hatred and envy against the Princes of the Church? did he not quench in men's hearts all fear of laws both of God and man? did he not make a faith, which assured men of salvation, were they never so wicked, yea and obstinately bend to continue in naughtiness? did he not show to all the world a great hope of licentiousness? did he not with his doctrine make those men disobedient and rebellious, which he himself had begotten, fostered and brought up? Is it not well known, that such as had given themselves wholly to his doctrine, proved so desperate and headlong, that he himself could not rule them? But how worthily you defend him M. Haddon? If he be popular, say you, that regardeth the health of the people, there is no man more popular than he: but if you mean, by popular, such a one as stirreth the people to civil discord, read his book, in the which he inveigheth against the tumults of the common people in Germany, and slander him no more. Oh what a wise man is this? How wittily he quiteth the Prince of his religion? I call him Popular, whose scholars by hearing his doctrine become seditious. You answer me, that Luther complained of the tumults in Germany, which his scholars and followers stirred up. And you are so blockish, that you perceive not that you speak for me against yourself. Luther, say you, speaketh earnestly against the tumults in Germany. Why then he confesseth, that the self same religion, which he had taken upon him to govern, which he had instructed with divine ordinances, which he had brought back: to the old purity of the gofpel, is stirring and seditious. Then did Luther bring marvelous goodly fruits to his countre● me●▪ for he made them not modest, but reproachful: not gentle, but impatient: not quiet, but seditious: yea so much, that he himself was forced to set out books, and to reprehend their desperate madness. O what a wholesome gospelis●● doctrine was this? what a wonderful light cast this divine man into the world? what a sovereign salve laid he to the wounded consciences? Is this, to purge the Church thoroughly of vices? to restore again the old purity of the gospel? to prop up the doctrine of the Apostles▪ beginning to fall? to cause by his doctrine such men, as were of nature quiet, to become so proud and insolent, such brawlers and quarrelers, that their captain, yea their own dear father could not hold them back? For how many thousand men were slain by civil wars in Switzerland stirred 
Heresse cause of civil warre● and bloud● shed.  up by Zwinglius and Oecolampadius? What a company of husband men in Suevia following their captain Muncer were cut of by the nobility? What place was there in all Germany free from this contagious and pestilent discord? The beginner's and ringleaders thereof what were they, out of what fountain sprang they? Doubtless out of the rage, madness, and presumption, of Luther, out of the shop where the most infamous Lutheranisme was wrought and contrived. But some of the forenamed persons fell out afterward with Luther. Yea and no marvel. For it was impossible, that such naughty fellows being all agreed in mischief, should long agree within themselves: where every one of them sought to be the Captain. What did Luther himself? did he not make seditious sermons? did he not stir up the commons against their Princes? did he not use very reproachful and villainous talk against most honourable personages? did he not most spitefully revile th'emperor himself, Henry king of England, George Duke of Saxony, and many other noble Princes? Is it not well known, that all his sermons tended to the stirring up of discord and sedition? What is then more plain and evident then that the sect of Luther is altogether Populare, seditious and troublesome? And how dangerous it is to Princes, it needeth no declaration. For what so ever is, after this sort, populare, is, (as I declared in my letters) very much contrary, not only to the good estate of the common weal, but also to the majesty of Princes. If you be not of such convenient wit, that you are able to foresee by the causes going before, what event is like to follow: you will never fully understand it, though I should declare it with infinite examples. Is it unknown, think you 
Heresy over▪ throw of Kings and king domes.  that through the naughtiness and outrage of Luther, Ludovicus King of hungary was slain in the field with a great multitude of Christian men? For when Solimanus Emperor of the Turks brought against the King a great huge army, and great danger was bend against all Germany: yet the cities of Germani, being partly entangled with civil wars within themselves (the which Luther's sect had caused) and partly imbrued with the doctrine of Luther (who maintained in disputation, that it was not lawful to withstand the force of the Turks) either could not, or would not aid Ludovicus. If therefore this victory of the Turks hath brought such great dishonour to the name of Christians: if by it there is laid open a gap into Christendom, to the utter decay and ruin of Austria and to the great danger of all Germany: if the noble kingdom of Hungary (for the greater part of it) be brought under the rule and government of a most barbarous and cruel enemy: for all this we may thank the naughtiness and outrage of Martin Luther. But peradventure you never heard of this gear, and therefore you will bide by it, that your new gospel is no hindrance to Princes. What? can you beignorant of that also, how Edward your own king was in his childhood most traitorously made away with poison? know not you▪ by whom Charles the Emperor a most worthy Prince was both betrayed and assaulted? heard you never say, with how crewel treason queen Marie a woman most excellently furnished with princely virtues, was first assaulted with poison and afterward besieged of her own subjects▪ Is it possible that you should know no thing of the conspiracy, in the which was contrived by a company of most filthy traitors the murder both of the queen and of Cardinal Poole a most noble, godly, and wiseman? what need I to rehearse unto you the rebellion of the french men, the disloyalty, the cruelty, the waist and spoil of churches and holy things in France? what should I say of the king of Scotland, who was by most cruel vil lanie murdered and slain? Now they that have stirred up such great broils and tumults, they that have committed such barbarous and horrible acts, from whence have they their original or beginning? Is it not evident to the world, that the very fountain and spring of all these mischiefs was in Luther? And yet it liketh you to call him the man of God, one sent from heaven for the salvation of mankind. Tell me, I pray you, what virtues appeared in him so great, that you should conceive such opinion of him as you do? what continency of life? what gravity of manners? What severity? what gentleness? what contempt of wordly things? what contemplation of heavenly things? what time spent in continnual prayers? what days and nights passed over in weeping and tears for the health of the people? What fasting? what groaning and sighing? Finally what deeds of most fervent charity hath commended this man unto you so much, that you dare say of him, that he may well be compared for his excellency in virtue and godliness, with Basile, and Athanasius, and all other holy men?  
First of all, he was, as his own paiges do confess, of nature crewel, in his talk rough, wrathful, haughty and proud, yea so much, that he esteemed not Melanchton to be a man. Then his vow solemnly made unto Christ he broke it, and like a most filthy ribaude coupled himself with a woman, which had in like manner vowed perpetual chastity unto Christ in a monastery of Vrgines: and by this example showed himself to be a captain and ringleader to all such, as would do the like. To be short, he was infamous for many other most heinous vices and detestable crimes. But lest his commendable qualities might seem to be utterly defaced with the blemish of many vices: I confess, he could with a goodly show of humanity sometimes hide his rough and boisteous mad nature, and so set forth himself to the simple people. For he was a pleasant companion, and at a banquet a jolly prater in all kind of mirth very fine, if reproachful taunting may be called civil fineness. He pleasured much in scoffing and taunting, in reviling the Princes and governors of the Church, in mocking and scorning of honest plain folks, 
Prou. 3. d.  such as were true Christian men▪ But our lord, saith Solomon, abhorreth scorners, and communicateth the secrets of his counsel with the simple. Whereby it may be gathered that Luther was not replenished with the light of heaven. And yet you think him worthy to be compared with the most holy fathers. Of fellow ship tell me, which of all the ancient fathers distained himself with ribaldry and incest? Which of them brought the common people in hope of licentious living? Which of them stirred up with his sermons sedition and in divers and sundry places? which of them taught men to put the hope of their salvation in faith, that is to say, in a only rash and foolish presumption? Which of them tied up the will of man, which god would have to be free, with I can not tell what bands of destiny? which of them durst ever affirm, that God was the author or chief cause of all sin? which of them ever held that all good works wrought and done of holy men by the grace and instinct of the holy ghost were unclean and spotted with sin? which of them ever took away the true justice, which by the grace and goodness of Christ i● ascribed unto faithful men, and consists in clean life, innocent conversation, and exercise of holy works: and in steed of it substituted a newly devised justice such as was never heard of before? For when Luther denied, that sin was quite blotted out in holy men by the grace of Christ, he affirmed, that there was none other justice, but only the singular justice of Christ, applied to every particular man by faith, were he never so sinful and wicked: the which being but one in all men, it was impossible, that there should be any difference in the world between the justice of any common man, and the justice of Paul or Peter, yea or of the most holy Virgin mother of God. And you demand of me what those monsters of religion are. All these things, which I have here most briefly comprised, I say, are the most horrible monsters of religion: and the father of them is not villainous, but villainy itself: not frantic and mad, but very frantikenes and madness itself. What show of bashfulness, honesty or modesty could you see in this man being the overthrower of all honesty, continency, and modesty? What glimpse of virtue could he so dasel your eyes withal, that you would suffer yourself. to be so dangerously deceived in him? And yet will you continue in your error as you have begun. And yet will you acquit such a pestilent sect as blameless and without fault? And yet will you liken the good holy Fathers to Luther a most vile and infamous caitive.  
But you triumph exceedingly, that he stood so stiff thirty years together, and was never punished for his naughtiness and outrage. Can you imagine any greater punishment in the world, than the remembrance of a sinful and filthy life? The remorse of his heinous offences made him terribly afraid. The fiends of hell torments of damned souls vexed his mind. The enemy the devil shook him up, and would not suffer him once to breath or rest himself. Truth it is, he would banquet and make good cheer with his friends, and therewith somewhat relent his intensify cares. But neither chambering, nor banqueting is of that force, that it is able to raise up a man's heart weighed down with the poise of sin. But what 
Luther's death.  kind of death died this noble holy Father? Being at supper with his friends over night he quaffed somewhat freely, and the next morning was found dead.  
You say afterward, that there were brought into England by the goodness of God a golden couple of old men, Martin Bucere, and Peter Martyr, whose virtues you commend above the skies. Of them I have nothing else to say, but that I think them to be very lewd and naughty fellows, if for nothing else, yet for this cause only, that you so highly commend them. for he that commendeth Luther, it is not possible, that he should commend any thing that is godly, honest, or holy.  
Whereas you put me in mind that I should somewhat temper my style, and not call such men arrogant and proud, as you esteem for gentle and modest, signifying withal after a sort the danger that by them might ensue towards me: I would ye would advisedly consider, how ill-favouredlyly your words hang together. For if they be very gentle (as you say they are) then although I shall revile them, they will never be moved▪ withal, but will marvelously well keep their patience and constancy. But if they will fiercely set upon me with villainous and reproachful language: then are they not so gentle, as you make them to be. I know very well, that under the covert of a sheeps skin 
Mat. 7. 6  (as Christ saith) lieth hidden the rough and cruel nature of wolves. It is also by experience well tried, that there is nothing in the world more shameless, than these fellows are. For when any reason is brought against them, they endeavour themselves to answers it, not by reason, but by multiplying of words. And therefore, when they are pressed with arguments, then begin they to chafe and sweat, to fear and faint, to rail and rave, and in the end fall to plain scolding, until they have found for their impudent assertion some shameless shift. But believe me I fear no man's slanderous tongue. For I have committed mine honesty and estimation to the keeping of jesus Christ, and therefore no man shall ever be able to thrust me out of my place by the violence of his tongue. And as for your reproachful words, they move me no more than the raving of one that were frantic or out of his wit. Were it not that the love of godliness had moved me, had I ever written so much as one letter against you? No, not one. I took upon me this charge of writing, not minding thereby to maintain my●● own good fame or estimation, but to confute your wicked and ungodly talk. Wherefore be bold and spare not, to taunt me at your pleasure, to pierce my good name with fowl words, to tourmoile it with villainy, to rent and tear it with all dishonesty: and I give good leave and licence not only to you, but also to all your Bucers and Martyrs, most gentle and soft creatures (as you call them) to bend themselves as fiercely against me as they can devise. Wherefore there is no cause why you should go about to make me affrayed of them: for so much as, unto their taunts, for the which I care not, I will never answer: and their reasons are very peevish, and alreadi confuted by the books of many learned men: and I myself am at this point, that I fear nothing in the world but only Christ.  
As touching their persons, if there be any sense of humanity in you, you see how il you have defended them. You say aferwarde, that it is nothing true, that you should stand to the holy Scriptures only: for so much as you do receive many sentences of the holy Fathers withal. What a doubling and inconstancy is this? Now you reject many things, for this reason only, because they are (as you say) the devices of men▪ and by and by, you receive what you list, and say, that you have not rejected all the traditions of men. You are so doubtful, so divers, and so slippery, that you can not well tell yourselves, what you think, and what you mind to stand to. And yet when you spoke those words, you commended them that acknowledge nothing else but the holy Scriptures, and refuse all holy traditions and ordinances. These are your words. Truly if it were so, then followed they the example of our Lord jesus Christ, then followed they the custom of the Apostles, and of the ancient Fathers in the primitive Church. How many things you lay out at a venture? It is like forsooth that Christ the mind and wisdom of God the Father, by whose power and dispensation the law itself was made, by whom the Prophets declared things to come, of whom all holy men of old time received their light, was content to abide that law himself, that he would not be so hardy, as to speak one word, which he found not registered in the holy Scriptures. I beseech you Sir, where read he in the Scriptures, that a man 
Unwritten truths.  for being angry only, although he uttered not one reproachful word, should incur the danger of God's judgement? where found he it written, that a man for casting his eye a little aside wanton, should 
Mat. 5. d  be accounted as an adulterer? By what words in the Law was a man forbidden to give a bill of divorce to his wife? In what place was it ever written, that a man minding the perfect observation of the Law, should sell all his goods, and bestow the money made thereof to the use of the poor, reserving to himself nothing? Have you ever read, either in the law, or in the Psalms, or in the Prophets, that the way to salvation is a narrow way, or that you ought, when a man hath stricken one cheek, to hold him up the other, or that you ought to pray unto God for their life, that speak ill of you, and work your destruction? But now to come to other points, of the birth and proceeding of God: of the regeneration of men in heavenly life, the which Nicodemus 
10. 3. a  a man exactly seen in the doctrine of the law understood not: of the time, in the which God would 
10. 4. c.  be worshipped neither at Jerusalem, nor in the mountain of Samaria: of the bread of heaven, which is the food and sustenance of our life: of all these things what word have you expressly written in any place of the old Testament? But when Christ spoke these words, there was no Gospel yet written, neither did any written monument confirm the sayings of Christ, but look what he ordained by words, was afterward put in writing, to the end that men should not forget it. I do here let pass many things (minding not to prosecute all that might be said, for so much as I have already spoken sufficiently) to the intent you might understand how unadvisedly you have said, that our Lord jesus Christ did also observe such a rule in his doings. What shall I say of the Apostles? Where had S. Paul read, that such as 
Galat. 5. a  kept the circumcision of the Law, were to be separated from the communion of Christ? In which of all the holy Writers found he, that it is unseemly for a woman to worship God bore headed, or for a man to cover 
1. Cor. 11. ●  his head, when he prayeth to God? What should I rehearse unto you; how he commendeth such men as were mindful of his Doctrine, delivered unto them either by writing, or by word? What should I speak of that, 
Act. 15. e.  that the Apostles say in their Council? It hath seemed good to the holy Ghost and us? They say not. It is written in the holy Scripture: but, It hath seemed good to the holy Ghost and us. Now as touching the holy Fathers, which peradventure you never read, how durst you affirm of them, that they never brought in any thing for the government of the Church, but what they had found written in the holy Scriptures? How many things rehearseth S. Basile, and disputeth that they were delivered from the Apostles unto the Church, only by word of mouth? How many such things are recited of Cyprian, Chrysostom, Augustine, and the rest of the holy Fathers? How much do they reverence all such holy ordinances, as were decreed in general Counsels? I do here omit an infinite number oftestimonies, which do plainly convince this madness of you, or rather of your Masters, for so much as not only the greatest learned men of our age, but also the most holy Fathers of other ages, have in these points very learnedly disputed against your opinion. For in times past, all heretics in a manner held this opinion, that nothing ought to be received, unless it were written in the holy Scriptures, minding withal to wrest and corrupt the holy Scriptures with their own interpretation. But the holy Fathers most earnestly defended the contrary, alleging Arguments and Examples brought even from the Apostles time, and by the decrees of Counsels directed they all their doings. Wherefore such things as you report of Christ, of his Disciples, and of the holy Fathers, are all most evidently false. You say, it is not true, that your Doctors should take any thing upon them, above the common sort of men. Can you imagine any greater arrogancy in the world, than to presume to reform the church, being somewhat impaired, with new jaws and statutes, which neither Athanasius, nor Basile, nor Cyprian, nor any other of the holy Fathers ever thought upon: and to set such words, and countenance upon the doctrine of their new Gospel as though they had done allthings by order and appointment of Christ himself?  
You say that I am not able to show any fault or dishonesty in the world in their life. That is true, if we must needs stand to your opinion: For so much as amongst you neither filthy pleasure of the body, nor rebellion, nor any other disordre or outrage are accounted as faults.  
You find fault with me, for that I cease not to trifle dangerously, and to hinder the estimation of most grave personages, by whose diligence your Church hath been set in a marvelous goodly ordre. You could say no less, for such as you do commend (being yourself both for virtue and authority a very grave sire) must needs be very grave men. Then you say.  
You lay to our charge that the companies of virgins and monks, which were sometimes enclosed in Monasteries to keep the Divine service of God, and to maintain the chastity os their bodies, were by our men let out to the unclean pleasure of the flesh, and all other licentious living: that their houses were laid wide open for gain, that laws were made, that no religion should hinder the pleasure of the body. What you mean by their gain, I understand not. For I never suspected, that they did for their gain commit any vile or filthy act. But you do in this as you do commonly. You can not well tell, neither what you do say, nor what you would say. Then how impudently is that spoken that followeth? O●t upon this over malapert and licentious desire, which you have to pervert all things. We confess, yea and with all our hearts confess, that, through the most holy advertisement of our men, those downgeous of all wickedness are fallen down, into the which the tender young maidens, and the seely boys were violently thrust in, to their so great hindrance in good manners, as I can not for bashfulness well declare. Oh what a shamefast and may denlie fellow is this? What is that, I pray you, that you would not for shamefastness express? Nothing in the world. for immediately after you bring in these words. Those same shops of lewdness had little other thing in them, but only a certain pharisaical continuance of prayers in an unknown tongue. Their other more secret exercises might well be likened to the old revels of Bacchus in Rome. Tell me I pray you (most presumptuous and impudent railer) could you have uttered any more spiteful reproach against the poor monasteries of holy virgins, if your goodly maidenlines and modesty had not stayed you? Compare you the green arbour of Christ, the house of chastity, the representation of heavenvly life, with the most horrible and filthy revels of Bacchus, which were sometime most sharply punished by the laws of the Romans? And yet you say forsooth, that your may denlie modesty will not suffer you to express their secret vices. Pleasure you so much in your stinking eloquence? Like you so well to taunt and revile chastity, to join the defence of your most barbarus and vile act, with the reproach of Christ? As though the world knew not, that you overthrow those holy Monasteries, not for any displeasure you bear to naughtiness and vice, but for the hatred you bear towards chastity. And of like the greedy desire you had of the goods and possessions, with the which the nuns and Monks were maintained, holp the matter well forward. If you had had no face at all, no shame, no bashfulness in the world, how could you with more vile and filthy language have dishonested so holy a trade of life? The exercise of Religious and chaste life you call the downgeon of wickedness▪ that is to say, a sink of all vice, a cannel of filthiness, a standing pool of unclean pleasures. Can any thing be more impudently spoken? And yet you content not yourself with all this stinking stir of words, but you say moreover, that the tender young maidens, and the seely boys were violently thrust into the said Monasteries, to their great hindrance in good manners. What mean you by this? What would you say? What geave you the world to understand? Is there any vice so heinous, that it may not be well comprised in this your shameless talk? After this there followeth the most beastly word of all the rest, where you call the holy discipline of clean life and continency, a shop of naughtiness. As for the Pharisaical continuance of prayer, which is but a trick proceeding of Luther's railing spirit, I will let it pass. But whereto tendeth the comparison, which you make with the most unclean and detestable rebels of Bacchus? Is man's heart able to devise any thing so abominable, that you may not well comprehend it within the compass of this your most base and vile language? Why then what is that, which you can not express for bashfulness? Doubtless nothing: whereof it followeth, that you are utterly void of all shame, bash fullness and honesty. For I can not tell how it cometh to pass, that the more a man useth the company and familiarity of such men as you commend, the more shameless is his behaviour. But to the intent you may the better see, how heinous and wicked an offence you have committed against your own self: I think it good to declare the original 
The original and institution of monks.  of the name and institution of Monks.  
There are two kind of men within the fold of Christ's church. The one is of them, which living a common life, content themselves with the commendable exercise of mean virtue and godliness. The other is of such, as endeavour themself to excel in the following of heavenly life and discipline. Now for so much as the end, which every Christian man ought to set before his eyes, is the likeness of the perfection and justice of God, the which they attain much sooner, which are prompter and readier to behold the beauty of the will of God: the which beauty no man can well conceive in his heart, so long as he is as it were tied down with the bands of straight friendship and familiarity of the body: it came to pass, that such as had an earnst and fervent desire to join themselves unto God, called away their minds (as much as was possible) from the familiar acqueintance of the body, to the intent they might the better fasten the eyes of their hearts in the clearness of God. These are they, which (as our Lord saith) have ghelded themselves for the love and earnest desire of the kingdom of heaven. For the pleasure of the body weigheth down the heart even to the earth, and with her importunity carrieth away the mind from the contemplation of the brightness of God. The which thing is so true, 
H●b. 13. a.  that, although Marriage be honourable, and the bed undefiled, and he that defraudeth his wise of the right of Marriage, committeth no small sin, yet it is sometimes necessary for such as do mind to receive this clearness of God within themselves to abstain from their own wives.  

Exod. 19 c  For this cause Moses, before he received the law, gave commandment to all men, to abstain from the company of their wives, until God had given out the law. For this consideration S. Paul also, when he forbiddeth the husbands to forsake the company of 
1. Cor. 7. a  their wives, addeth this clause. except it be for a time to geave yourselves wholly to prayer. In the which place the holy Apostle teacheth plainly that the very lawful and holy company of man and wife, doth hinder the mind, that it can not so freely and speedily pierce the heavens, and there talk familiarly with God. And therefore saith he in the same Epistle, he that joineth his virginity in marriage, doth well: and he that joineth not, doth better. The reason, which the Apostle giveth, why it were better for a maid to continue unmarried, is this. Because that, such as are entangled with the cares of marriage, are oftentimes carried a way from the remembrance of heavenly things. But such as are free from marriage, are troubled with none other care, but how to please God. And, the single woman, saith S. Paul, thinketh upon the things that appertain unto God: how she may be holly in body and in soul. And a few lines after, he setteth before our eyes, the goodly fruit of this most holy freedom, which is, a liberty to pray unto God at all times without any impediment or let. That this so great a gift, and benefit ought to be ascribed, not to the merit of man, but to the mercy of God, our Lord himself declareth, saying. Every man receiveth 
Mat. 19 b  not this word, but they only to whom it is given. Whereby it is manifest, that, such as do so conquer the tyranny of fleshly pleasure, that they are able to continue their life in chastity, they do it by a singular benefit of God, and for that cause are most worthy of honour and reverence.  
But you will say peradventure, that I spend much talk in things too well known, and not necessary. They are, I grant you, things very well known, and thoroughly debated in the writings of holy men. But that they are nothing necessary, then may you give judgement, when you shall perfectly understand, that they are impertinent to those matters, which I have taken upon me to treat of.  
Whereas therefore in the Primitive Church, the greatest part of men that became Christians, lived uprightly and godly, but yet so, that they differred little from the common life of men: there was no small number which were inflamed with most earnest desire of the greater dignity and higher perfection. Now these (being there unto moved by the spirit and grace of God) fearing lest the lust of the body, and care thereof, might be some hindrance unto them, and hoping withal that they should more manfully vanquish the sensuality of the flesh, abstained themselves from marriage: to th'intent that although their bodies walked up and down in the earth, yet their minds and thoughts might be conversant with God in heaven. The which thing that they might the more commodiously bring to pass, they separated themselves from the company and conversation of men, and with one accord pitched in one place: that there might be made of all their minds, one sure and perfect agreement of heart and will. And the order that was taken in the beginning at Jerusalem, that no man should have any possession several to him, (which could not be long kept of all, for the great multitude of men) was of these men restored and put in ure again. Their life was nothing else, but only a perpetual war against the bodily pleasures and sin; with an earnest and continual meditation of heavenly things. Their body therefore they subdued with fasting, watching and labour: but their minds they stirred up to behold the beauty and brightness of God by prayers and spiritual songs, hymns and meditation of godly matters. Hereof proceeded that most fervent flame of love: hereof came that earnest desire to follow godliness and virtue: hereof arose the joining of man's will with the will of God: hereof sprang a certain clear and bright sonneshine in the soul of man: finally hereof issued that knot or conjunction with God, than the which man's heart is able to ymagin no thing straighter or faster.  
These men were at the first called in greek Monks, that is to say, solitary livers: not so much because they haunted desert places, as because they forsook and despised all worldly things, and were knit with a most straight band of love unto God all only, according to the saying of David. It is good 
Psal. 72. d  for me to cleave unto God. And S. Paul saith in like manner. He that cleaveth 
1. Cor. 6. d  unto God, is one spirit with God, These monks therefore, which I fpeak● of, that they might the better att●in● unto a state, in the which no man might disquiet or pull them away from this conjunction of the spirit of God: took such ordre of life, as I have here declared. S. Diony sius of Areopagus whom I esteem, after the Apostles, as prince of all Divines, doth not only expound the name of a Monk after this sort, but declareth also▪ what ceremony the Bishops used at the professing of monks. This name of a monk hath been sometimes in great reverence and estimation: and houses were builded for them to dwell in, the which, as Philo writeth, were at the first called Monasteries. There were also many virgins inflamed with the love of God, the which subduing the sensual pleasure of the body, taming the affections of the mind, despising the richesse of the world: gave themselves wholly to the service of Christ: and the better to bring their purpose to good effect, they came together in one place, where they lived always in the contemplation of God. S. Basile a very holy and great learned man, after many years drew out a rule in writing for Monks, to the end they should no more alter and change their discipline, but be well settled and bound always to one uniform fashion of religion. His Epistles are yet extant, in the which he doth most gravely confute the slanderous talk of certain lewd fellows, the which misliked his doings herein. For the world was never, nor is now, nor never shall be without some feedmen and servitors of Satan's retinue, which endeavour themselves to undo the Decrees and ordinances of holy men. This life of Monks how highly doth Chrysostom commend it? With how great words doth Augustine bring men in admiration of it? How often, how gravely, how eloquently doth S. Jerome set out the excellency of it? Who did not only commend it in words, but also followed himself that trade of life, and lived and died in the company of Monks. And so did Gregory of Nazianzen, the most worthy pillar of Divinity, the goodly pattern of virtue and eloquence. What should I here rehearse all other men, that have excelled in learning and holiness? Was there ever any virtuous and perfect man in the world, which gave not exceeding great commendation to the rule and life of Monks? Truth it is, that the earnest love of this perfect religion hath been slaked and quenched (as it happeneth) divers times: but there never lacked holy men to stir it up and kindle it again. from thence came that wondered good Father Benet, from thence came Bernard and Brunus, and after them Francis and Dominike, the which did not only set an order in the life of Monks, but also with most earnest and fervent desire, laboured to reform the church of Priests which was very slack and negligent. How many Martyrs came from thence? How many Writers? How many excellent men in all kind of virtues? For if there was any thing in the Church in their time, that tended either to example of excellent virtue, or to a rule of high wisdom, all that may we thank the Monks of: or (to speak better) thank Christ himself, which stirred the hearts and minds of Monks to follow such a goodly discipline of virtue and wisdom.  
But, to abridge this our discourse, being now made plain, that there were even in the Primitive Church, two kind of Christians: the one which contenting themselves with mean doings, lived a common life without crime: the other, which tending to heaven ward with greater fervency, withdrew their minds from the familiariti of the body, and themselves from all resort of men, and consecrated their whole life, to the service and love of Christ: being also evidently proved, that this life of perfection far passeth the other common life: surely it is veri manifest, how great honour and reverence men ought to have borne to those houses of Virgins and Monks. For they were in this kind of life, which is more noble and excellent, yea and cometh far nearer to the nature and likeness of Angels, as it were common Schools or working houses of heavenly virtue, and clean lif●. This is that, that induced many Christian Princes most virtuous and godly men, to build Monasteries, and to endue them with possessions, by the which the Virgins and monks might live and serve God continually. When this was done, those princes were for victories most renowned, for chivalry and feats of arms most honourable, and their countries excellently well governed. But now we see in many places where men do basely serve from the godliness of their ancestors, that it cometh far otherwise to pass. For with increasing of rents and revenues contendeth neediness: with the multitude of men, dishonesty: with pride, the weakness of the whole common weal: finally with the show of holiness impudently faced and borne out, sacrilege.  
But you will say, that this kind of monks are all decayed and worn away. Not among us, I assure you. For sense the Kings of spain have bend themselves earnestly towards the reformation of religion: there is found so great religion and godliness in divers Monasteries, that many young men of the nobility brought up in great wealth, standing in good hope of much worship and honour in the common weal, being inflamed with the love of such wondered virtue as they see with their eyes, do forsake richesses, despise honour, reject pleasures, little regard the tears of their parents, and fly for secure into some holy company of monks, as it were from the stormy tempest of filthy vice, into the quiet haven of clean life. In like manner many virgins of excellent beauty and comely behaviour, being sewed unto for marriage of diverse young men of the Nobility, have forsaken all the allurements of this life, that they might in the company of holy virgins much more pleasantly solace themselves in the spiritual and sweet familiarity of Christ.  
But you will say peradventure, that these examples of great virtue, are very few in comparison of them, that are thrust into Monasteries against their will and repining at it. And no marvel. For why, in every kind, look what is excellent, is also rare. Then whereas you talk of violence used in putting the Virgins into Monasteries, it was never permitted by any Law, nor yet allowed of wise men, and the holy Council of Trent hath from hence forth utterly forbid it, and therefore it is now no more used.  
But what fruit and commodity have these Virgins by this kind of life? Doubtless such as can not in words be expressed. For many of them are so inflamed in spirit, that they are sometimes taken quite away from their bodies, and lifted up into heaven, where in the contemplation of the goodness of God they rejoice exceedingly, and beholding the beauty and brightness of God (so much as they may) are astonished, yea so much that sometimes they are besides themselves. I have good acquaintance myself with a Monk, a simple and plain man, the which, so often as mention is made of the love of God, his senses failing him, he falleth upon the ground, and yet in the mean time, his memory is fresh, and is in contemplation of heavenly and godly things. It were an infinite matter, if I would rehearse, how many holy men I have seen in those companies which you laugh to scorn, and how many virgins I have talked withal, which are wonderful for religion and holiness.  
If these things be true (as they are most true) why have you taken away this so excellent an example of religion? Why have you defaced so wonderful a rule of chastity and clean life, in the which is contained that, that is in the religion of Christ the highest perfection, and (as I said before) most of all to be esteemed? why have you violently and furiously rushed into those holy houses to abolish utterly out of the world the very remembrance of perpetual chastity? Oh, say you, they lived not after the rule of S. Basil. I grant you, for amongst us also sometime, the nuns forgetting their duty, waxed somewhat wanton, and some Monks also lived very disorderedly: howbeit the most holy order and discipline was not for that cause utterly taken away and overthrown. Neither are the members of the body, which may be healed, so soon as they fall into any disease, forth with to be cut of. What? Think you it well done, for a small blemish or eyesore to grub up the whole order by the root? Were it not better, ween you to bring the members, that are diseased, to their natural strength again? If you had used the same medicine, as our Princes did: why might not the commendable virtues of chastity and holiness have flourished amongst you, as they do with us? But it was never no part of your thought. Neither did reason move you to do well, but hatred and covetousness pricked you forward to mischief.  
Now as touching the pharisaical continuance of prayers (for so it liketh you to term the continual exercise in the Divine service of God) this much I answer. If the defence of Religion do confist in unreasonable and reproachful words, then are you to to much to good for us. For you have had in that honest faculty, an excellent schoolmaster called Luther, from whom proceeded all these terms, Pharisee, hypocrite, Papist, and such other (which I do let pass as words not meet to be spoken of any honest and bashful man) with the which he reviled holy men. And yet you to maintain one mischief by an other, to defend Sacrilege with a heap of slanders and false witness, you say, that the disorder of Monks in their Cells, and of Nuns in their Cloisters was so great, that they might well be compared with the revels of Bacchus. How then have you left such heinous offences unpunished? Wherefore did you not suppress such fowl and horrible vices with most extreme and sharp punishments? Wherefore did you not proceed with all severity and rigour against such detestable conveticles (for so you full unreverently call them) wherefore did you not make them examples to the world, lest the liberty of unbridled and filthy pleasure might overflow your country to the utter▪ undoing of your common weal? Are you so reckless and negligent in the government of your realm, that you thought it meet to appoint no punishment at all for that most detestable shop (as you call it) of filthy vice? Will you in that Island, in the which a Queen (whom the king loved very well for her beauty, wit, and courtesy behaviour) for the only suspicion of a great deal lighter offence than this is, was by the sentence of the judges, at the commandment of the King himself her husband, openly in the face of the world, by the hand of a hangman executed and beheaded: will you, I say, in that Island suffer such heinous offences, as are not to be named, to escape unpunished, yea and that in a kind of men, which are not only contemptible and abject, but also odious and hateful? It is not like.  
Moreover, this feat of pulling down monasteries began not amongst you, but you had it from other men. For Carolstadius and Luther and other the head Sectaries attempted this goodly enterprise first of all: so that you may not rob them of the honour thereof, and take it to yourself. It was not therefore the hatred of unclean pleasure, but the example of these noble personages set out as a rule in this your new discipline and Religion, that stirred your minds to the overthrow of perpetual chastity. Besides this, the grievous displeasure you had conceived against the Bishop of Rome for intermeddling and giving sentence against you: the casting of your eyes upon the goods and possessions, with the which the Mounkes lived: the flattery of certain naughty and desperate fellows: the fond pleasure and appetite to make alterations and changes, helped the matter well forward. In old time amongst the Romans (which were men utterly void of the light and knowledge of God) the Virgins of Vesta were had in such estimation, that every man did geave them the way, the place, and seat, with very great reverence. And you have distained the Virgins of Christ with a notorious and perpetual infamy. Those Virgins, because they maintained the fire of Vesta, the citizens did not only honour and attend upon religiously, but also reverenced their judgements: and you have not suffered the holy virgins of Christ to keep their virginity solemnly vowed, to maintain the everlasting fire of heavenly love in their hearts enkindled. It was lawful for those Virgins to marry after thirty years, and yet of their own accord they did abstain from marriage: you have married the virgins of Christ, to whom it was in all ages unlawful, to filthy ribaudes. Those virgins, if they were at any time by enticement deflowered, they were buried alive and so ended their life with a horrible kind of death: and you have taken them, which were dishonested (as you say) with mosto vile brothelry, and have for punishment of so great a vice pleasantly rewarded them with sporting and dalliance. And yet you say.  
Wherefore God hath stirred the hearts of our men, that these so great bands or companies, which lay lurking in blind stinking corners, were through their godly exhortations called forth, from idleness to labour, from vice to virtue, from wicked brothelry to most honest marriage. You say, God hath stirred the hearts of our men. I would feign learn of you, what God that was. for there are many, as S. Paul saith, that are called Gods. For to some men the belly is a God: to some other money is a God: yea and to some riot and ruffling and haughtiness is a God. I would therefore feign know, what God that was, that put it into the hearts of your men, to abolish and rake up in the earth the love of most holy and perpetual chastity. Was it Bacchus, or Cupid, or Mercury? For of Christ the son of God, who is very much delighted in perpetual chastity and clean life, I am right well assured, that he never moved you to any such heinous act.  
The idleness, which you speak of, was not a fruitless sitting still, void of all holy works, but it was a continual exercise in the contemplation of godly things.  
As touching the most filthy brothelry (as you call it) you are in one sentence convinced both of a lie, and of impudency withal. For, if there had been any such offence committed of them, you would not have suffered it unpunished. And then how impudent and shameless you be, the forging of so filthy a crime doth plainly declare. It is not therefore true that you say, that your doings stand well with the profit of the common weal. But contrariwise you have bv violence and authority drawn out those bands or companies (as you call them) from holy quietness to a business defiled with wicked sacrilege: from the exercise of godliness, to the liberty of vice: from the discipline of perpetual continency to the bondage of most unclean voluptuousness. How be it by this, I do not excuse your religious men. For it had been much better for them to suffer intolerable pains, yea and to let their lives in torments, then to forsake their Faith, which they have openly professed to Christ. For if they had withstood your warnings and counsel, your threats and authority with good courage and constant hearts, dowbtelesse they had died an honourable death for the glory of Christ. For you are wont to punish extremely th● chaste and clean life: but filthy and vile brothelry, as you confess yourself, you are wont mercifully to pardon. The Carthusians▪, most chaste and holy Fathers, you put to death: but those most wicked bands and companies, as you term them, you called forth to be married, and to live in pleasure. Wherefore there is no dowbt, but that, if your Mounkes had lived after S. Basiles rule, they had been dispatched amongst you every one. And yet you glory that by this your so goodly an act you are restored again to liberty. As though you understood, what thing true liberty were. But of that we shall see hereafter. Now before I enter into that discourse, I willbe so bold as to demand of you one question.  
This liberty of the gospel, which you have always in your mowth, doth it take place in all things, so, that it may be lawful for every man at all times to do what him listeth? Or else is it limited by some certain rule of law and reason? As for example in Matrimony. Shall it be lawful for the husband to put away his wife for every cause that him lysteth to allege? No without doubt. For the everlasting law of the Gospel will not bear it. I● then the band of Matrimony being once knit by the mutual consent of man and wife▪ can not be dissolved: by what means, I pray you, may that band, with the which Virgins are willingly consecrated unto Christ with sol●mne ceremonies, and faithful promise, be broken by the presumption of men, without great 
1. Tim. 3. b  and heinous offence? S. Paul commanded Timothee to avoid young widows. For when they have lived rioteouslie, saith he, to the reproach of Christ, they will marry. What then? Is it not lawful for widows to marry? Doubtless it is lawful.  
For the same S. Paul saith. If her 
1. Cor. 7. g  husband be a sleep, she is free from the law of her husband. She may marry to whom she will, only in our Lord.  
If then it be lawful for Widows to marry without sin, what is the matter that S. Paul findeth fault with these widows, because they would marry? for he addeth, that they have their damnation. Why so I pray you? what have 
1. Tim. 5. b.  th●y done? what offence have they committed? Because they have, saith he, broken their first faith. what faith I beseek you? Expound the meaning of S. Paul, if you can. What manner of promise was this, which the Widows have broken with none other offence, but because they would have married. Is it the promise, which they made to their husband's, that they would never spot the bed of wedlock with adultery? No. For of that promise they were quite discharged by the death of their husband's. Why then it followeth, that this promise was not made to any man, but to the son of God, that they should keep th● chastity both of body and mind perpetually to his glory. The which promise when they had decreed to break, they did a grievous reproach, not to men, but to Christ himself. And therefore it seemed to the Apostle, that they had deserved, (as being condemned for the offence of a most wicked adultery) not to be received into the company of chaste widows, but rather to be forbidden to enter into the church. And that you may the more marvel at it, note, that S. Paul said not, that those widows after the first marriage had married to other men contrary to their promise made, but only that they would have married: whereby it is given us to understand, that this religious promise is most wickedly and heinously broken by the only will and desire to be married again. It was therefore lawful for widows to marry, before they had promised and consecrated their chastity unto Christ, but after the time that the promise was past, it was no more lawful. Now then sir: Think you that the offence of the Virgins is any thing less, which have not only a desire to marry, but do marry in deed to the great reproach of Christ? Doubtless it is far greater: by so much as, it is a more wicked offence for an undefiled virgin to play the harlot to the dishonour of Christ, than not to keep the chastity of a body, which is not untouched. How long then lasteth this liberty? So long as it is in our free choice, to take what way we wil But when we have once either yoked ourselves in matrimony, or else offered up our bodies by vow to serve God in religion: as it is not laeful to break the promise of matrimony, so is it not lawful to violate the sacrament of perpetual chastity. And who so ever presumeth to do it, committeth a most wicked crime, that deserveth the judgement and vengeance of God. He that hath constantly 
1. Cor. 7. g.  determined in his heart, saith S. Paul, having no constraint, but having power over his own will, and hath advisedly determined in his heart to keep his virgin, doth well. He layeth no necessity at all upon us: but by his authority approveth the will of that man, which weighing and considering the matter well, and taking withal the will of the virgin (for otherwise it may not be) dedicateth the said virgin unto Christ, which he keepeth under his rule and power. But after the virgin hath once bound herself with the vow of perpetual chastity, S Paul saith not, that she is at her choice to marry if she wil For if he should so say, he should speak very much against himself. But all these things are very easily confuted in the opinion of such as are addicted to Luther. For it is not lawful, say they, for any man to bind himself by vow to that religion, which he is not able to keep. And to resist the tyranny of fleshly lust, they say, is granted to no man. This is the talk of a man not only incontinent and dissolute, but also wickedly bend against God. For he distrusteth the goodness and power of God, and measureth the strength of virtue and continency, not by the almightiness and power of God, but by his own weakness and filthy appetit. And this is the property of all naughty fellows, by their own beastly life to judge the conversation of other men. Nero was fully persuaded, that all men were as evil as himself, but that their unbridled lust was restrained by the lack of things, that it could not break out at all times into deeds. And this opinion causeth, that when vicious men hear tell of any man or woman that is very continent, they do not only not believe it, but they will devise oftentimes some infamous crime to burden him withal. I grant you thus much, that neither Luther, nor Bucer, nor Zwinglius, nor Occolampadius, nor Calvin, nor your Martyr himself was able to sustain the assault of the flesh. For the heavenly gift of perpetual chastity, is justly denied to all such, as have most wickedly divided themselves from the church. But unto such as are within the bounds of holy Church, and are desirous to be joined with most fervent love to Christ the chief and principal worker of honesty and holiness, for so much as they are fenced on every side with the strong bulwark of God, it is very easy to put fleshly pleasure to flight, to pull up the very strings and roots of all unclean vice. Otherwise S. Paul had never geanen counsel to virgins to continue in the 
1. Cor. 7. b  state of virginity: he had never said, that they were far happiest of all other, that followed the cleans of his life: he had never condemned widows, only for that they had a will, to be married 
1. Tim. 5. b ●. Cor. 7. g  contrary to their promise: he had never preferred the state of Virgins before widowhod: no our Lord himself had never approved that kind of geldings, which have gelded them 
Math. 1●. b.  selves for the kingdom of heaven. And yet will you here lament (like a Popular fellow, a restorer of liberty) the wretched bondage of those virgins that desire to serve Christ more painfully and more chastened, than you do. You are altogether ignorant, what liberty is, which do condemn the most excellent kind of liberty, calling it bondage. For if it be true liberty to do, what fleshly lust commandeth, what naughtiness forceth, what wrathfulness moveth, what hatred persuadeth, what the mad rage of a wilful and headlong mind driveth a man to devise and do: then I grant you, that they are bondmen, which have crucified their affections, and have fastened themselves with such straight bands unto Christ, that they can not be tossed to and fro with the sway ofpestilent and filthy lusts. But if liberty be a power of that 
True liberty.  part of the mind, which hath the rule and government, and tendeth to come to that end, to the which both the excellency of natural inclination, and also the likeness of God in the mind calleth it: I would learn of you, whom you think to be more free: that woman, that being, as it were, pulled in sunder with a thousand divers business, serveth always with great care her husband, her children, and her family: or her, that being discharged of all these troubles, casteth herself down at the feet of Christ, and hath no more but one only care, how she may at all times singularly well please Christ her heavenly spouse. That woman, whom the force of pleasure being by law permitted, yea and of duty required, constraineth oftentimes to forget heavenly things▪ or her, whom no force of pleasure is able (so long as she is bound unto Christ) to hinder from the contemplation of God. Finally, that woman, who is through the love of her husband drawn two ways, or her, which hath set her whole love upon the beauty of Christ. Who can deny, but that liberty is then given to the mind in deed, when reason beareth rule in all the state of the mind? Whereupon it followeth, that where reason keepeth down the fleshly lusts most, there is the mind freest. Wherefore it must needs be, that the fruitful liberty which you have unseasonably brought forth for holy Virgins and Monks, against all right and reason, against the holy order of Christian religion, is no liberty at all, but a detestable and pitiful bondage. We have been somewhat long in the confirmation of this part, because I saw, that upon this l●wd point was laid the very foundation and growndworke of all Luther's most pestilent doctrine. For this holi● chaplain of Venus (I mean not Venus of Cyprus nor Paphos, nor Ericine, but Venus the Regent of hell) when he had most filthylie spotted himself with lechery and ribawdrie, he thought that not unough, but used violent persuasions with so many as were of his revenue, to do the like. And as we read in Euripedes, that Venus took great displeasure, because she was despised of Hippolytus, and therefore devised craftily, to send certain monstrous seacalues out of the sea, to gallowe his chariot horses by the which train Hippolytus was for the only love of chastity, torn all in pieces and cruelly slain: even so hath this hellish Venus pricked forward Luther and Carolstadius, and the rest of these horrible monsters, not against any one chaste man, but against chastity itself, meaning by them utterly to abolish out of the world that heavenly example of chastity, of honesty, and of virginity.  
Moreover there was a bitter hatred conceived against the Bishop of Rome, whose state Luther imagined might by this goodly policy be very much weakened.  
Last of all Luther, according to the devils physic (who useth to cure one evil disease with an other worse) devised to heal the infamy of incontinency with impiety and misbelief: to th'intent that, when he had persuaded all such as followed him, that it was not only lawful and honest, but also that very duty and godliness, ●ea and necessity itself required, that all Nuns and Monks should be married, there should no man be able to blame him for his incontinent and vicious living. The very same trade and way have you taken, following the steps of your master, to abolish all good affection towards perpetual chastity: and now, that, that was very ungodly and heinously done, you defend it to be done, for godly and just causes. To slide and fall proceedeth of the weakness of man, and to continue in any vice il begun, is an argument of an unbridled mind and unruly affection: But to rejoice and glory in wickedness, and to give the name of honesty and godliness to most filthy vices, is so presumptuous and horrible offence, that it can not by words be expressed. And yet because I did in my letters but only lament this so great a ruin and decay of religion, you lay out against me with open mowth. And yet you make outcries, and in so doing you would be taken for an earnest and vehement man. And yet you would bear men in hand, that the things that you have done for hatred, malice and rashness, were done charitably, providently, and advisedly. You say.  
Out upon this over malapert and licentious desire, which you have to pervert all things. I say on the other side. Out upon your barbarous and crewel boldness. Out upon your intolerable impudency. Out upon your most wicked and devilish practices, devised and wrought by the labour, study, and diligence of Satan. What rage hath so driven you, what madness hath so stirred you, that you durst set upon so wicked an enterprise? For you have made open wars against honesty and chastity: you have furiously broken into the holy Monasteries: you have overthrown bashfulness, honesty, and continency: you have chased away that most excellent love of perpetual virginity: you have given the goods of religions persons to whom you listed: and now, when you triumph at the fall of chastity and Religion, you so vaunt yourselves in it, as though you had by this noble victory, gotten everlasting fame and honour.  

Image●.  Now followeth the disputation of the pulling down of Images, which you like very well, and are offended with me, because I should say, that when the images are taken away, there is nothing left, whereby the mind might be stirred up to think upon godly things. The which I never spoke. For there are many other things, which you have overthrown together with the images, that move our minds more vehemently than they do. But this much I said: For so much as Images are very good and effectual to bring all men, especially▪ the unlearned, to the remembrance of the wonderful virtue, which shone sometimes in the holy Saints and it were expedient that the benefit of Christ should be represented unto us by all signs, in all places: it was wickedly done of them; that pulled down Crosses and Images. For we do neither pray, nor offer, nor sacrifice unto them: but we are by them put in remembrance of those things that are of dew to be worshipped. It is, say you, against the express commandment of God. I would your doctors would instruct you better in Divinity, that you might no more babble out such childish toys. Tell me, I pray you, have you never read, that there were in the tabernacle of God, Images of Cherubins set before the Ark of promise? The vele, which 
exod 25. b.  divided the inner part from the rest of the tabernacle, was is not wrought between, with many Images of Cherubins? 
Numer. 2●. b.  Was there not made the Image of a Serpent in brass by the commandment of God in the wilderness, upon the which, such as were bitten of serpents, looked, and were healed? What Images then hath God forbidden to be made? Those Images without doubt, by the which men blinded with sin went about to express a thing, that can neither be devised, nor painted, nor engraven, nor expressed with words, nor conceived with the hear, that is, the infinite Majesty of God. Besides this, there was great danger, lest the people being now acquainted with the manners of the Egyptians, being also about to go into a land, which was infected with the self same errors, might through familiarity and neighbourhood of these ungodly nations, fall into the like error, and offer up sacrifice unto gods made of stocks and stones: or at the least make the images of some naughty and vile men, and set them up in the place of God. The fear of this danger caused many things to be taken quite away, which had been otherwise lawful and tolerated. The image of the brazen serpent was diligently kept, as a goodly monument of the benefit of God, and singular sacrament of the salvation to come. But after many years, when the people were come to such madness, that they thought there had been some divinity in the image, and therefore offered sacrifice unto it: it was by the holy King Ezechias broken and made 
4. Reg. 18. a.  into powder. Show you now, that we do go about to express the nature of God by signs, or that we think that there is any godhead in doom images, and then may you well convince us of blindness and folly. So long as you do not this, there is no cause, why you should fear the dotage of idolatry (as you term it) or lay blindness to our charge with such● monstrous words. For we do that, that is by right and reason ordained, by the holy Church approved, by sentence of holy Fathers determined. The gospel, say you, commandeth us to abstain from Images. That is true. But what must we understand to be ordained by this commandment? For soothe this, that no man should offer up sacrifice to Images, or for any pretence of religion, make as though he did follow the error, that was in other men. For the faithful men were not then commanded to overthrow and break their Images, but to forsake the detestable Sacrifices. Moreover, what Images were those? Of jupiter, Apollo, Minerva, Mars, and Mercury, and other the like Gods, which were thought of old time to be very true gods in deed. But we do neither offer up sacrifice unto idols, neither do we think the Images of unclean and vicious men to be worthy of any reverence in the world. You say afterward.  
But this fear being taken away, yet must the doctrine of Christ have full authority ●mongest Christian men: in the which it is plainly said, that God is a spirit, and that the true order of praying to God is, to worship him in spirit and truth. Of like we know not that, M. Haddon, and therefore do we make God like a man both in body and manners. Would God, you had learned, what it is to worship God in spirit, and then had you never fallen into such ungodly opinions. You say, that the true ordre of praying needeth not these helps of outward things. Although you and such as you are, having now waded so far in the exercise of spiritual life, need not these outward helps, but may without them press even to the throne of God: yet should you remember, that there are many, that are not yet come to so high a degree of heavenly perfection as you be, and therefore have need to be helped by all means possible. Not so, say you, but raither while our outward man is to much occupied in these shadows of holy things, the fervency of the mind waxeth cold within. Not so, M. Haddon, but rather while the mind waxeth cold within, it is, by these outward representations of holy things, to be stirred up, to remember those things that were forgotten. for, as Dionysius teacheth us, so long as we are enclosed within the frame of this body, and can not altogether withdraw our mind from the acqueintance of the body, we are to be stirred up now and then by bodily Images to the remembrance of the invisible God. This not withstanding you go fore ward, and say.  
Let us put examples. The old Church of the Apostles and Martyrs had none of all these monuments, and yet was their spirit most earnestly inflamed with the love of God. In the wane of ●ure Religion pictures crope in by little and little, and so appalled in the hearts of men that former boiling heat of Religion. Not so sir, but then were Images and pictures necessary, to stir up again by almeanes the fervency of religion, which was, as you say, appalled. For so long as the Image of the Cross was printed and engraven in the hearts of all men, this multitude of Images was not so necessary. But you do much like, as if a man should say, that the remedies of diseases were the causes of diseases. for the picture did not cause men to forget holy things: but rather it was wisely devised, that men might not forget them. If the use of Images quenched, as you say, that fervency of spirit, with the which men were inflamed in the old time: then must it needs follow, that, when Images were first overthrown of you, you were by and by very hot in spirit. Tell me therefore, if it please you: When you first broke down the Images, tables and other monuments of Saints: when you defaced them, mangled them, and dashed them in a thousand pieces: when you burned the relics of the most holy Martyr S. Thomas: was there forth with enkindled in you so great a heat as you speak of? were you by and by wholly inflamed with fire from heaven? I believe there fell from above, not only fiery tongues, but also fiery hearts and bowels, the heat and flames whereof wrought with you so extremely, that you are not able by any means to abide this strange force of love, which burneth within you. Neither do you now live upon the earth, but in heart and mind you are in heaven. For even as upon the overthrow of the authority of the bishop of Rome, there arose out of hand a new son amongst you: so must it needs follow, that upon the pulling down of Images, upon the breaking of the monuments of Christ crucified, upon the digging up of the grave of the holy Martyr, and burning of his bones: you conceived forth with such a fire of heavenly love in your bowels, that there is nothing in the world to be seen in your hearts, but only that same hot and sierie love of God. If it be so, I commend the vehemency of your spirit, I allow your doing, I think, this worthy act of yours deserveth immortal fame and honour. for what so ever quencheth the fervency of the spirit, what so ever doth any thing break or weaken the force of love, it would be put back with the whole bent of the heart. Neither ought we to bear any thing in the world, that might cause a dullness or slakenes in the mind. But if it be nothing so, if, after the breaking down and defacing of the goodly monuments of virtue, you were not inflamed by and by with fire from heaven: than it is most evident, that the Images and relics of holy men buried under the ground, did nothing hinder you from that fervent love of God. Why then, what (the devil) madness came into your heads, that you should be so earnestly bend to make a waste and spoil of things, whereof you could take no commodity in the world?  
At the length, you speak very earnestly (as you do often) against the divinity of the school doctors, wherein I can not much blame you: for you have good cause to be offended with them, whose whole drift both of minds and disputation is altogether against you. For they have received a pure and true Doctrine from holy men: you have taken a pudlie and stinking doctrine of most wicked persons. They are bound to the very ancient Religion, that was delivered from the Apostles: you falling from the ancient religion, are wickedly flitted to this new-fangled sect. They, for the most part of them, do worship Christ with honest conversation and upright conscience: but you have done and spoken many things very impudently and rashly, to the reproach and dishonour of Christ. Now whereas you impute the cause of Images to them, you show yourself to be not only very shameless, but also very witless. ●or you do not account amongst the school Doctors Cyrillus or Athanasius, or Jerome, or Ambrose, or Augustine. Whom then? Dowbtlesse such as followed Petrus Lombardus, and began many years after his time to expound openly in schools his Sentences (as they call them) gathered out of the books of the holy Fathers, and brought into one volume. Petrus Lombardus flourished about the year of our Lord. 1141. And the second Council of Nice was kept in the year. 781. Neither was it first decreed in that council, that Images should be set up, but that they should not be pulled down. And the heresy of such as would have them to be overthrown, was there condemned by the full agreement of all the fathers. Of the which error, as it appeared by the testimonials brought into the Council, the first brochers were certain Manichees and Marcionistes. It was there declared at that time, by the authority of Basile, Gregory of Nissa, Cyril, jerom, Augustin, and by the custom received in the Church even from the Apostles time: that the Images of Christ, of his most blessed Mother, and of other holy men had been set up, upon a great good consideration, to call the minds of men continually to remember the goodness of God. In the self same Council also, was read an oration of Athanasius, of a miracle, which was wrought at Berith a city of Syria, when certain jews pierced the Image of Christ with a spear. For out of the wound flowed out blood, whereupon the jews were turned unto Christ. And although in the Apostles time, such signs were nothing necessary, and as than it was not lawful through the tyranny of Princes to build Churches, and to beautify them with comely ornaments: yet do the ancient monuments declare, that even at that time 
The Image of the Cross. ●  there was some use of Images. As for the Images of the Cross, there is no doubt, for so much as the most ancient monuments both of Aethiopia and India make mention of them.  
In that part of India, which is within the rivers Indus and Ganges towards the east, there is a town called Mailapur, and belongeth to the great kingdom of Narsingua, where the body of S. Thomas was buried. There, not many years ago, was digged out by the providence of God a great Cross made of stone: whose top and both sides, an ark hewn out of the same stone covered: wherein were engraven letters of very great antiquity, which no man could read but such as were learned in the ancient letters of the Bracmans. The meaning of the letters, as it was afterwards found, was a story of the death of S. Thomas: which declared, how a holy man named Thomas, in the time of King Sangam ruler of those lands, was sent of the son of God to visit those countries, and to bring the people unto the knowledge of God: and how the enemies of religion crucified him upon the same Cross▪ And the Cross even at this day is smeared with spots of blood.  
Eusebius also writeth, that, in a city called Philip's Caesarea, there was a brazen Image of Christ set upon a foot, of a good heith, and before it an other Image of a woman▪ the which being sometime sick of a bloody flux, was cured by the benefit of our Lord. This Image was made in manner of a woman suppliant and holding up her hands unto the Image of Christ. He declareth furthermore, that near unto the ●oote of the said Image there was wont to grow a certain kind of herb, the which when it was grown so high, that it touched the hem of the garment of Christ, it conceived a great virtue, and was very sovereign against divers and sundry diseases. The self same Eusebius reporteth, that he himself had seen the Images of the Apostles excellently well painted, the which manner he commendeth highly.  
It is also written that Constantine the Emperor saw in a vision Peter and Paul, whose Images when he beheld afterward, being showed unto him by Sylvester the Pope, resembling in all points that, that he had seen, he was exceedingly astoined.  
What say you M. Haddon? Are you not ashamed of your ignorance? It is evident, that there were Images set up in places of common resort, even in the times of holy men (which you grant to be happy times) especially after it was lawful to build great and sumptuous Churches: it is evident, that they were misliked and resisted of very old heretics, and worthily maintained by most excellent men both for holiness and learning: finally it is evident that the second Council of Nice accursed and excommunicated all such as did condemn the Images of holy men, and the monuments of Christ: and will you unadvisedly ascribe the cause, and original of them unto the schoole-doctours, which began to dispute of divinity in schools many years, yea many hundred years after that time? what dullness is this? what negligence? what ignorance of antiquity? But to let pass your ignorance in stories, what may be said of your undiscreet boldness in these your doings? For whereas Images are so effectual in bringing us to the remembrance of things, that even they that read books continually, that serve God with great fervency, that may be brought to remember heavenly things by many other monuments, yet are they cheerfully prevoked to the love of godliness, by looking upon the outward signs of heavenvly things, and Images of holy men: what came into your heads, to pull away from the unlearued people, which have not so many stays to lean unto, these helps and succour of memory, these monuments of perfect religion? For (to pass over with silence all other monuments) where shall you find one amongst an hundred, that is not moved by looking upon the Image of Christ nailed on the Cross? that is not inwardly stirred to devotion by the remembrance of so great goodness and mercy of God? that is not sometime wholly melted and resolved into tears? Wherefore then will you take away from the unlearned and weak, this goodly help, with the which, the learned themselves, yea and such as are well hardened in the exercise of godliness, are oftentimes moved? Especially, for so much as you are never the ferventer in faith and charity, after this your so honourable an enterprise, for the which you take so much upon you.  
But how wittily you conclude all this question with a twoforked argument, saying, that our pictures, if the spirit be present, need not: if it be absent, they boot not. Not so sir, but if the spirit be present, they do no hurt, if it be absent, they may do much good. For what so ever reneweth in us the remembrance of the goodness and mercy of God, profitteth us not a little, and prepareth the way very well to attain to the grace of the spirit itself.   

THE SECOND BOOK.  
IN good faith I am ashamed to use so many words in the confutation of that your book, for the which you stood so much in your own conceit. But for so much as you have huddled up together so many things in it, which I must needs lay abroad each thing by itself, I could not comprise so many and so divers points of ungodliness and heresy in few words.  
But to come unto other matters, you marvel, that I should lament in those my letters, that all holy things, ceremonies, godly custumes, solemn feasts, and Sacraments of Religion were utterly decayed. You say therefore. What do I hear? Is it like that there should live any kind of professors of Divinity in the Christian world, the which would utterly abolish holy things, ceremonies, and all Sacraments of the Church? By these your words, M. Haddon, a man may conjecture, that it were such a horrible act to do it, that the very remembrance of it maketh you to tremble and quake. For you think it a thing impossible, that any man (which is called by the name of a Christian) should be so wicked and barbarous, so far from true faith and religion, so spitefully bend against all godliness, that he would go about to dishonest, to deprave, to corrupt and deface the solemn custumes of the Church, the religious usage of holy things, the inviolable reverence of ceremonies. Look what you grant us we take it, and we think you to be worthy of no mean commendation, because you think that their offence is not mean, which do despise ancient ceremonies. Otherwise you would not have asked with a certain admiration, whether there were any kind of professors of Divinity in the Christian world, that would commit an offence so wicked and barbarous. And although you used craft, whereas you said, that the ceremonies were not all overthrown) as though it were no fault to take away some, and to retain some): yet I doubt not, but when it shall appear evidently, that the very principal sacraments have been quite overthrown by such as bear the name of Christian men, it shall seem even to you a very horrible offence. You marvel (and not without cause) at the greatness of their heinous act. But I marvel exceedingly, not at the wicked act of a sort of desperate fellows, but at the folly of a grave and wise man. What say you? Are you only ignorant in all Christendom, what hath been done? Are you only a stranger and unacqueinted in matters so notoriously well known? Heard you never say, how Luther a passing holy man (as you think) hath given a proud say to pluck away all the sacraments of the church? Neither can it be said, that he keepeth the sacraments, the which wickedly and lewdly appaireth the virtue and strength of them. If you never understood this, what say you to that? heard you never tell, that Carolstadius, Zwinglius, Oecolampadius, and last of all your own Martyr (to pass over a great number of others) did rend and tear the blessed Sacrament of the altar with most vile and reproachful words? It is like you never heard of it. For how had it been possible, that M. Haddon a chaste and upright man, a man most zealously bend towards religion, (if he had understood, that Peter Martyr had been distained with so fowl a crime) could have found in his heart, I say not to commend him, but only have any strength or power towards salvation: it is not possible, that any thing should help towards salvation, which is void of the grace and mercy of Christ. But Luther denieth, that the grace of Christ is procured by them. Whereupon it followeth, that there is contained in them no sound fruit of justification, but only bare Images and tokens. And therefore it is to no purpose for you to keep them, if you believe Luther. But because it were tedious to make a discourse upon all the rest of the Sacraments I will speak only of two, which are of great weight and importance towards salvation. The one is the confession of sins, wherein is contained the sacrament of penance: (it may please your fine and piked eloquence to bear with these terms of plain schoolmen) the other is the Sacrament of the Altar.  

Confession.  And to speak somewhat first of Confession, I say and affirm, that there is no remedy appointed in the Church so effectual to put away the diseases of the soul, and to recover the health thereof by the grace of Christ, as confession is. The which we prove by reason, and try also by daile experience. I say nothing here, how in the time of the old law, in the sacrifices which were oftentimes offered up for the purgation of sins, there was a certain confession of unclean 
Num. 5. a  life made unto the Priests. Neither do I think it needful to rehearse in this place, how earnestly such ascame to the baptism of john, did first confess 
Math. 3. b  their sins. Neither will I declare as now what is written in the Acts of the Apostles as touching confession of 
Act. 19 d.  sins, which was made unto the disciples of Christ by such as became Christians. That commandment also of S. james concerning confession I 
jacob. 5. d  will pass over with silence. Neither will I here allege those place in the which Christ hath most undoubtedly committed the rule and jurisdiction of souls unto the Priests, the which, as you know very well by the study of the law, can not be executed, without 
The profit of confession.  the examination of the cause. This one thing will I say, that the profit of this wholesome confession is so great, that any wise man may easily conjecture, without any testimonials, that it was ordained by the provident will and bowntiful mercy of the holy Ghost. For first of all, how much the knowledge of every man's own self availeth to salvation, it can not well be expressed with words. For even as self ignorance blindeth the mind with errors, and maketh it proud and insolent: so doth the remembrance of the weakness and misery of man bring men to the learning of wisdom. Furthermore, for so much as no man can attain the grace of God, except he do first lowly abbase and pluck down his mind: there is nothing to be regarded with greater care, study, and diligence of such as desire to get the grace of Christ, than a most fervent love and earnest desire to come unto this virtue of humility, in the 
Humility  which resteth the very foundation of Christian piety. And this humility is caused in us by setting before our eyes the deformity of our sins, by shame which riseth in us by beholding the ilfavourednes of then, by due consideration of the danger, into the which we ran headlong. But all these things are contained in the confession of our wickedness and sins. For confession containeth in itself a discrete examination and acknowledging of ourselves, a learning of humility and modesty, a bashful rehearsal of the sin committed, a fear of the danger hanging over our heads. By this confession, such as lie down, are stirred up: such as be faint, are cheered forward: such as be proud, are pulled down: such as be unlearned, are instructed with wholesome lessons. And this is well known, that when the time draweth near in the which confession is to be made, men are more modest and continent then at other times. And the harder it is to bring many men unto it, the better it is seen, that it was orderned by the providence of God. For whereas there is naturally in all men a certain love of honesty, and a careful desire to conceal dishonesty, no man could be brought to open the deformity of his sins unto Priests, unless he were driven thereunto by order, disposition, power and will of the holy Ghost. Moreover what stronger bridle can be devised to assuage and repress the haughtiness of men of power, to restrain and moderate their rash and wilful presumpteousnes? For we see the highest Princes, when they have cast themselves down at the feet of the Priests, to be sore afraid of their rebukes, to be restrained by their laws, to be instructed by their advertisements, to be reclaimed by their commandments from unlawful lust and liberty to good order and civility. This Sacrament causeth 
The effects of confession.  bashfulness, it draweth out tears, it endeth advouteries, it restoreth money embeseled, it quencheth hatred, it maketh peace, it quieteth rage, it setteth in comely order the whole conversation of the inward man. But now, if a man not contenting himself to be confessed once in the year, will oftentimes confess all the uncleanness of his mind, will examine his conscience diligently, to the end that he may confess with the greater fruit, will keep an earnest battle against sin: he shall see a daily amendment in himself, with a more clean, chaste and upright conversation. I take jesus Christ my Lord and my God to witness, that by the often coming to this most wholesome confession I have risen and escaped from a marvelous number of sins. In so much that, if I have at any time repressed the pleasure of the flesh, if I have despised unclean lusts, if I have been earnestly bend towards the love of chaste life, if I have been enkendled with any sparkle of the love of God: I may thank this Sacrament of it, by the which the holy Ghost hath imparted unto me a great deal of his mercy and goodness. Neither have I only received this so great commodity of confession, but whom so ever I do see given to this most holy exercise, (of the which there is a marvelous numbered amongst us) I perceive that they are delivered from all worldly pleasures, that they flourish in all virtues, and that they become better and better daily, to the gréat wonder of many men.  
And this is that, that moveth me to use most earnest persuasions with my subjects, to induce them to resort oftentimes to confession: whereof I receive no small profit. For many of them have now withdrawn themselves from the company of unchaste women, many have removed themselves from exacting of usury, many have reconciled themselves unto such, as they did bear mortal hatred unto. And I know, that amongst us, many worthy Bishops both for learning and virtue doth the like. Neither are we such as can content ourselves with the confession of sins only, but we require also the fruits of penance, the which we are wont to call satisfactions, 
Satisfaction.  how so ever it please your masters to scorn and scoff at that word. But believe me, we are nothing troubled with the laughter of ungodly men. We hearken to S. john, which commanded such as had already confessed their sins to do the worthy fruits of 
Math. 3. ●  penance. We willingly receive the self same words pronounced and repeated by that most high master of justice, the redeemer of mankind. For while we obei the commandments of Christ, we so little esteem the taunts and scoffs of lewd fellows, that we are not only not moved with their reproachful talk, but also we rejoice exceedingly in it.  
Now then, seeing that this sacrament is of so great importance to salvation, seeing that we see so great fruit to be gathered out of it, if we do fervently desire the salvation of all men: can you blame me, if I sorrow and lament, that this great gate of salvation is closed up to many Christians through the lewdness and misbelief of a few men? I talk not with you now, for so much as you keep, as you say yourself, the sacraments of the Church. But if some man of an other disposition shall be so cruel and ungodly, that he will attempt to dam up this way to salvation, casting before it piles or heaps of earth, will you suffer it? Will you, seeing such a detestable offence, so refrain yourself, that you will not cry out upon it? Blame not me then, if I do, as you yourself will do, if it be true, that you say, that you do keep and observe diligently the sacraments of the church. But if you speak otherwise then truth, I will not much marvel at it, for your doctors are excellent framers, not only of impiety, but also of vanity.  
But you will say peradventure, that much evil and mischief ariseth by the occasion of this confession. If it be so, it is not much to be marveled at. For there is nothing in the world so holy, the which men agreed in wickedness may not abuse to naughtiness and mischief. But it followeth not by and by, that for the default of a few lewd persons, things ordained of God for the salvation of men should be utterly cast away. For so, there had been no good thing left this day in the world. For all things, that are by nature wholesome, are unto corrupt and vicious men hurtful and pestilent. And to let pass all other things, how many men are wont to abuse the very mercy of God, when he differreth to punish them for sin, to the increase of their damnation? And yet is not God for all that removed from his good will and purpose to deal mercifully with us.  
But some will say: we confess unto God only. Yea, but God, for so much as he can not be perfectly seen of us, hath appointed his Deputies upon the earth, to exercise his authority and jurisdiction, to threaten and fear, to geave gentle admonitions, to encourage, to raise up, to geave sentence: in so much that, who so so ever doth despise them, are to be taken (and that for great good cause) as though they did despise God himself, and refuse his order and commandment. Furthermore it were dangerous to leave every man to his own will in this case. For how many shall you find, that shallbe able to search out and consider their own sins? that will confess them with such shamefastness and contrition of heart, as David saith is a most acceptable Sacrifice unto God? that will geave sentence lawfully upon themselves, for that they are in their own causes very partial judges? It remaineth therefore, that he, that liveth not under the obedience of the Church, and will not abide the judgement of a Priest: neither would he at any time be confessed of his sins unto God, as he ought to be▪ Dowbtlesse Basile the great saw full well, what profit ariseth by this confession, when in his ethics he ascribed unto it the very beginning and foundation of justice. So thought Origen, when he willed us that we should not delay it from day to day: but so soon as we were fallen, we should forthwith have recourse unto the Priest. Such was the judgement of all holy men, the which exhort us so often to this godly exercise. Neither did the bishop of Rome first ordain this Sacrament: but being before ordained and commonly received, he decreed very providently, that it should be put in ure at the lest once in the year, lest it might be neglected to the great decay of godliness.  
But to conclude this matter, I would feign learn of you, how you think 
isaiah. 1●. b.  that place of isaiah to be understanded, where he saith, that it shall come to pass after the birth of Christ, that a waned child shall thrust his hand into the Cockatrice hole, and pull him out. If you will follow the jews, you shall understand it thus: that even as the poets report, that Hercules being yet in his cradle caught two great snakes that were sent unto him by juno, and dashed them together: so shall every sucking babe take venomous serpents in his hands out of their holes and kill them. But if you will expound the place like a Christian man, by the children you must understand those men, to whom Christ hath given power to tread upon serpents and scorpions, that is to say, upon the beastliness of sins, upon the craft and cruelty of devils, that lie lurking in the secret covert of souls. And although they be simple as children, yet are they endued with such great power and strength, that they can easily pull out those vipers out of the most privy corners and innermost creeks of men's hearts and kill them, that they may not infect and poison such, as have joined themselves to Christ by earnest and true faith. Now this thing as it may be done of the Priests of Christ many ways, so there can no way be devised by any wise man more commodious than that, which is by the wholesome confession of sins. for in confession the Priests do thrust their hands into the innermost parts of men's hearts, that they may draw out the serpents of sin, and dassh them against a stone, and kill them.  

The Sacrament of the Altar.  But now let us come to that wonderful Sacrament of the Altar. But before I enter into this matter, it liketh me to set here a goodly saying of Simias written of Plato in his book entitled Pho●do. Plato bringeth in Simias reasoning thus with Socrates. Me thinketh, Socrates, as I judge you think also, that it is impossible, or surely exceeding hard, for a man, so long as he is in this life, to understand the truth cl●rely and perfectly. The which although it be true, yet me thinketh it were the part of a weak and faint hearted man, not to discuss and examine by reasoning on both sides, what so ever is wont to be disputed in these dark matters, until at the length, the matter being diligently weighed and considered, we may be able either to learn the truth of other, or else to find it ourselves. If we can not attain unto this, yet at the lest wise, we must have great regard, amongst the reasons of divers men to take some one that seemeth better and surer: with the which as it were with a boat we may govern our life in these waves with some danger, until we may either find an other ship of more assurance and less danger, or else be instructed by the words and advise of God himself, how to direct our course without any error. Thus much said he. But to what purpose, say you, have you alleged this place out of Plato? That you may understand, that men of excellent wits did even in those days perceive, how little we ought to trust to man's reason, and how earnestly we ought to pray, that our life might be governed, not by the stay of our own wit, but by the rule of the word of God. So we do, say you. Would God ye did. But it is not so. But rather when it is lest convenient, you will weaken reason and take it away quite, and run like mad men into darkness: again when reason is to be bridled by the faith of Christ, you yield so much to reason, that what so ever reason is not able to attain, you will forth with geave it over. Now for somuch as reason is driven into a narrow and straight room, and the bounds of Christian faith are passing great and endless: it is a token not only of a naughty and wicked man, but also of a blunt and dull wit, to direct his life, not by faith, but by reason. For what man a live is able to try out perfectly the causes of the lest things in the world? to describe exactly the first spring, the increase, the variety, the beauty, the fruit, the profit and use of trees and plants? to express in words the order and way, by the which each thing in his kind is held together and made to continued? what man in the world is able to attain by wit, to search out the secret force and cause, how a living thing is made, nourished and knit together with bones and sinews? by what cunning or subtlety the veins are spread through the whole body, how the arteries are so wonderfully woven one within an other, and how they do convey the spirit of life to all the parts of the body, being so marvelously accorded the one to serveth ' other▪ and so finely compacted together within themselves. Then to come to the nourishment, increase, moving, going, diversity, and multitude of living things, and the natural knowledge and policy that each thing hath to keep and defend itself: what man was ever able to find out by undoubted reasons the very ground and perfect knowledge of these things? Great learned men have disputed very much as touching the mind of man: of the nature, disposition, wit, reason, invention, memory, and other powers of it: but of all this disputation we receive none other commodity but this, that we may well perceive by their long study and diligent search, how great darkness and ignorance there is in man's reason. For we see in them a goodly endeavour of mind to consider the nature of man's mind: but of the perfect knowledge of the thing, which thev seek for, we are never the near. Whereupon it is gathered, that no man is able to know himself perfectly.  
And yet there are some men so hard that, if a thing be told them, which is wont to grow or to be done in far Countries, they will not believe it: as though the things which they see with their eyes, and yet are ignorant of the causes, were less to be wondered at, than those things, which are reported to be done in other places. But now to omit to speak of the firmness of the earth, the passing great widnes of the sea, the nature of the air that environeth us, the burning of the sky, the due proportion and agreement of these bodies, the change and alteration of one nature into an other as it were by course and order of Law: What shall we say of the brightness, beauty, hugeness, and compass of the heaven? You, if ye lean unto reason only, what would you have done in this case? imagine you had been borne and bred in the dark countries of Cimeria (as the poets feign) and some man had told you, that there were a huge great frame containing within his compass all the whole world, marvelously decked and garnished with many fires, of such hugeness that all the lands and seas in comparison of it, are but as a pings point, of such swiftness in moving, that within the space of four and twenty hours it turneth the whole body round about, of such force and violence, that seven other huge bodies of the same nature, which are contained within his compass, having a contrary course, it beareth them all back with his only moving, if a man should tell you this tale, would you believe him? No truly, if you trust only to reason and senses.  
For so would you persuade your selves, that the things, the causes whereof you are not able to conceive, were impossible, (before you see them with your eyes).  
What if he should tell you of the son shine, a thing both healthful and comfortable to all living creatures, and of the goodly order, which the son keepeth in going by little and little towards the North, and again how he returneth by the same way to the south, casting his bright beams upon all things in the world? What if he should report how the moon with her increase and decrease divideth the times of the year and how she giveth ripeness to all things which the land and sea bringeth forth? What if he should declare, how diversly the heavenly bodies above are moved and turned, and how notwithstanding they are all reduced to a most perfect harmony and agreement? Would you believe it? No truly, if you can be persuaded in nothing, except it may either be proved by reason, or perceived by sense.  
It is surely a token of a base mind to esteem the knowledge of things, by the narrow and straight measure of man's understanding, and not according to the almighty power of him that made them. And out of this dullness or weakness of nature proceedeth all such opinions, as are contrary to holy Religion. For all heretics, either they esteem the almighty power of God by their own weakness, or else they measure the infinite mercy of God by their own naughtiness. As though they were able to make any resemblance in the world of the power of God, or understand how great the goodness is of that most bountiful Father, which doth with special regard, as it were, walk up and down throughout all his creatures, and providently maintaineth each thing in his kind and nature. And to pass over all other things, me thinketh, that in that last giving of shape and form to every living thing, I see a miracle, which showeth plainly the power and cunning of that most excellent workman, in whose hands the living creature was made and fashioned. Neither doth the multitude of living things minish the estimation of God's work, but rather augment and increase it. For the benefits of almighty God, the more they are in number, and the better they are known, the better is the greatness of his power and mercy seen, although the reason of his works be not understood. What shall I here speak of those things, that are for the excellency of their nature far above the sense and understanding of man? Who will believe that there is an infinite multitude of heavenly spirits, which being of understanding most clear, of holiness most pure, of virtue and power very excellent, of comeliness and beauty most like unto God, are always occupied in the Service of God? evermore singing and praising his Majesty, continually burning with the flame of the love of God? What? Can you conceive by reason, how the only son of God, the veri express Image of the Father, the brightness of overlasting light, being equal with the Father in nature, power, kingdom, and majesty: took upon him the shape of man, suffered in his mortal body labour, misery, punishment for us, redeemed with his blood our souls which were foully spotted in sin? If these things are to be weighed by man's reason only, they are nothing like to be true: but if we will consider them according to the faith, which we have of the bowntiful goodness of God, there is nothing more credible. For passing great benefits are to be required and looked for of passing great bounty. He that spared not (saith 
Rom. 8. f.  S. Paul) his own son, but gave him up for us all: How gave he not unto us all things with him? Wherefore to such as believe uprightly, I think there is nothing else needful to be considered, but how the thing, that they are willed to believe, standeth with the bounty of God: the which doing, it is not possible that any man should doubt of any mystery of our salvation.  
These things being thus determined, I will now talk, not with you, M. Haddon, of whom, as you say, the Sacraments of the Church are kept: butt I will take some one of them to talk withal, that raileth with blasphemous mouth against the blessed Sacrament of the Altar.  
And because I will seek no further, let it be your golden Martyr, whom you commend so highly. imagine therefore, that I talk with him after this sort.  
O most vile and naughty fellow, what came into thy mind to go about to deface, to violate, and to deprave that most holy Mystery, the monument of the love of God towards us, the comfort of our banishment, the stay of the frailty of man, the banquet of heaven, ordained for us in that last Supper by the hands of Our Lord himself? Was there none in so many hundred years but thou and thy Masters, that durst attempt so heinous, vile, and barbarous an act? Was there none that understood the sense of the holy Scripture, the meaning of the Gospel, the order of the blessed Sacraments, but you? Were so many holy Martyrs, so many Religious persons, so many great wise men (in whom shone the beams of the brightness of God) ignorant in matters of so great importance? It is like forsooth, that the light of the holy Ghost showed itself first unto such saucy, desperate, rash and presumptuous varlets, as you are, and suffered so many thousands of holy and virtuous men to lie in darkness and ignorance. Tell me, I pray thee, what great thing had Christ done for us, if at what time he determined to leave to his Disciples a special pledge of his love towards them, he had left them nothing else, but a bare remembrance of his death in the consecration of that bread? It had been a sign only, meet to be numbered em●gest those that you defaced and overthrew, and nothing worthy to be celebrated with so great reverence of that most holy and everlasting Priest. Moreover I would feign learn of thee, whether it be a wicked offence to call to remembrance the death of Christ, so long as a man is in sin? No truly, but contrariwise we can devise no better medicine, then that is, to drive away sin, and to recover our health by the grace of Christ. What moved S. Paul then, if there be nothing else in this sacrament, but only a bare remembrance of that death that Christ suffered upon the Cross, to threaten so grievous and horrible pains to such, as would receive this heavenvly bread unworthily? 
1. Cor. 1●. 4.  Who so ever shall eat, saith he, the bread, and drink the cup of our Lord unworthylie, shall be guilty. What? Is it such a grievous offence, when I am sick, to think upon the medicine, with the which only I may be healed? What other thing did I, when I received that bread, (if there be nothing else in it, but a remembrance of those wounds, by the which only my wounds may be healed) but call to remembrance the only remedy of life? Wilt thou blame me, when I am sick, because I seek the remedy of my disease, and humbly call for succour? Thou canst not do it. And yet▪ if I receive that, bread unworthily, that is to say, as thou expoundest it, if I remember being in sin, that Christ suffered death and crewel torments for me: S. Paul maketh me terribly afraid, by charging me with a crime. But with what a crime I pray thee? Some light or common crime peradventure, the which offendeth not very much. No, such a crime as is of all other most heinous 
1. Co. ●1. f.  and wicked. He shallbe giltle, saith he, of the body and blood of our Lord, that is to say, he shallbe guilty of no less crime, then if he had crucified Christ. For what cause? Because as the wicked soldiers, pricked forward with unbelief, put to death the Lord and maker of all things: so do they, that presume to touch with unclean minds that most excellent cleans, seem to bring upon themselves the self same plague for the likeness of their heinous offence. For both of them do alike despise Christ, and unreverently abuse his holiness and majesty. For otherwise what harm were it to sinful men to receive that bread? None at al. The Apostle therefore, because he saw, how grievous a fault it was, to touch the body of our Lord with an unclean soul, denounced the punishment, to fray all men from doing such a presumptuous act. And therefore he saith anon after: Let a man first try himself, and so eat of that 
1. Co. 11. g.  bread, and drink of that cup.  

Mat. 26. e Mar. 14. c Luc. 22. b. ●. Co. 11. c.  And, what can be more plain than the words of our Lord? This is, saith he, my body: and do this in remembrance of me. How then? Wilt thou presume to take the words of Christ, being nothing doubtful, but plain and evident, and expound them maliciusly? Wilt thou set the meaning of S. Paul at nought, which expoundeth the mist rye exceeding plainly and well? Wilt thou prefer this thy unsettled fantasy and mad gare, before the most sincere meaning of the Apostle of God? If he be guilty of the body and blood of our Lord, which receiveth this bread unworthily: He that slandereth and depraveth it, he that revileth and (so much as in him lieth) rendeth it in pieces, he that treadeth under his foot● the body and blood of Christ, he that goeth about to take away and utterly to abolish the virtue of that so wonderful a Sacrament: how shall he be punished according to his wicked and horrible fact?  
What is it so? If thou understand not, by what means the most holy body of Christ is in this Sacrament, not placed or limited according to the measure and proportion of the greatness thereof, but present in the eyes of a faithful heart through the almighty power of the word of God: if thou see not that marvelous change of earthly bread into the nature of heavenly bread: if thou perceive not, by what means the most excellent Majesty of Christ, which filleth all things, multiplieth the gifts of his whole body, that he may therewirh feed and refresh the faithful souls, and glue them all together with charity within themselves, and tie them fast to himself with the band of everlasting love: is it therefore reason, that thou shouldst slander and deprave this so wonderful a benefit of God? What thing dost thou understand? What thing dost thou conceive by discourse and reason? What thing is there in all the world, which thy mind is able to perceive exactly, and to know perfectly? Why then dost thou not order thy life, by clear faith, and not by troubled reason? Tell me, I pray thee, dost thou mistrust God's power or mercy, or else doth the greatness of the benefit trouble thee? Neither can the power of God be hindered by any let or stay, neither can his mercy be limited with any bounds: and the greatness of the benefit is a very good proof of the truth thereof. For why, there is nothing more agreeable to the great bountifulness of God, than the greatness of the thing, which he giveth.  
Then I ask thee an other question: What is the cause, thinkest thou, why I do believe, that the body and blood of Christ is after a wonderful manner contained in this Sacrament, and thou believest it not? It is not surely, because I will suffer myself to be abused for lack of wit. For thou dost not pass me either in wit, or learning. But this is the cause. Thou trustest thy senses, and I direct all my doings according to the faith of holy Church. Thou dost cast of the yoke, and spurn against it: but I do of mine own accord put my head into the most sweet yoke of Christ. Thou dost refuse his benefits, but I do pray unto him to increase my faith.  
Moreover, we see this by daily experience. The more a man yieldeth to vice and uncleanness of life: the feinter is his belief as touching this dreadful Mystery. Whereupon it is concluded, that he, that giveth himself wholly over to the pleasure of the body, and therefore falleth from the unity of the Church, will believe nothing at all of it. But on the other side we see, that the chaster and cleaner life any man leadeth, the more sure and constant is his belief in this point: in so much that he persuadeth himself, that he beholdeth in this Sacrament, even Christ himself nailed upon the Cross.  
Surely this agreement of the mind and will of man, is a thing to be wondered at. The mind seeketh the thing that is true: the will desireth the thing that is good: and the well governed will followeth the judgement of the truly directed mind. It followeth therefore that they only see the truth perfectly, which are well ordered in their life and conversation: for vicious and naughty men are commonly turned away from the truth, because they have their mind disordered with unruly desires.  
Now therefore consider to whom it is better to geave ear. To those holy men, the which being of mind most pure, of life most chaste, in holy Scriptures most excellently well learned, have from the time of the primitive Church followed this faith: or else to these madbraines and frantic fellows, to these filthy licentious ribawdes, to the new upstart doctors, which have most wickedly and heinously violated this faith? This Sacrament the holy Fathers, which were taught of the Apostles, called Synaxim, that it to say, a bringing together, because it 
Synaxis.  linked the minds of men together within themselves, and brought them to be joined all in Christ. In like manner they 
Eucharistia.  called it Eucharistiam, that is, a thanksgiving: because there is no benefit of God in this life, for the which we are bound to yield unto his Majesty greater praise and heartier thanks. For 
The effects of the Sacrament of the Altar.  it supporteth the state of the soul, it establisheth the powers of the mind, it cleareth the understanding, it strengtheneth faith, it stirreth up hope, it enkendleth charity, it inflameth hearts, it filleth the godly and devout minds with marvelous great sweetness and comfort. With this heavenly food, S. Cyprian (so often as any tempest or persecution was toward) thought it good to fortify them, that were appointed to suffer torments for the name of Christ. And therefore did he the sooner admit into the Church again, such as were yet penitentes, that is to wit, men separated from the Church for a time, to do penance for some offence committed: to the intent that, being strengthened by this communion of the body of Christ, they might stand valiantly to the end against all the power of Satan. For the holy man was of this mind, that the food of this heavenvly bread gave such strength and courage, as could not be broken or weakened by any force of our enemy the devil. What should I here rehearse other holy Martyrs without numbered, all holy writers, the faith and agreement of the universal Church continued even from the Apostles time to our days? And yet wilt thou keep open war, against the ordinance of Christ, against the doctrine of S. Paul, against the inestimable greatness of the fruits in this mystery contained, against the experience of such wondered profit and sweetness, against the pure and sincere faith of the Catholic Church? And yet wilt thou reproachfully revile the body and blood of Christ, and deprave like a mad man the most excellent and highest benefit, that ever the goodness of God bestowed upon man? And yet wilt thou rejoice in thy wickedness, and poison many other men with the contagion of this thy most pestilent heresy?  
These things, M. Haddon, think them not spoken to you, but to your Martyr. And now let him stand a side, and I will thus reason with you. Can you, M. Haddon, knowing, as you do very well, not only the virtue of this wonderful Sacrament, which is of all other the greatest, but also the strength and operation of all other Sacraments: being withal of that opinion, that to despise the Sacraments, is a most heinous trespass: when you understood, that there was a man in the world so lewd and wicked, that he would go about to take away and abolish this most worthy pledge of the love of God, this most sure stay of all Christian Religion, conteming in it all the graces and benefits of God: could you, I say, speak familiarly unto him? could you salute him gently? could you show him any token of love? Have 
2. joan. 1. c.  you never read in S. john, that he that saith, good morrow, to wicked men, is become partaker of their wickedness? But you have not only spoken familiarly to this Martyr, but also commended him above the skies: and you have said, that that same golden couple of old men, were brought into your Island by the providence of God, to shine over you (which had already the goodly brightness of the new son risen amongst you) with a much cleeter light.  
Are you so sottish, M Haddon, that you understand not, how much you have distained your estimation by that countenance and show of gentleness towards him? For what can be more infamous, then to be familiar with a frantic and naughty fellow? But if you like his Doctrine also, then is it plain, that you keep not the Sacraments at all: for so much as you have upon an unsettled pang, without all order, wisdom, or discretion, taken away the greatest Sacrament, and that, that is of all other most wonderful. Why then say you, that you wonder, if there be any kind of professors in divinity in the world, that despiseth and setteth at nought the Sacraments? But let us now consider the description of your Church, the which you set before our eyes to behold, that we may understand by it, that you have had none other master in Religion, but only the holy Ghost. You say thus.  
First of all, because faith is by hearing, we send down into all parts of our realm teachers of the holy Scriptures, to instruct the people in all points of godliness, and to inform them in the true worshipping of God. Out of what fountain sprang these Doctors? If they came out of the school of Luther, Bucer or Calvin: they can teach the people no godliness, being themselves open enemies to all godliness. It were therefore much more tolerable, to have no doctors at all, then to be infected with the most corrupt Doctrine of wicked men. If they sprang out of any other head, then is it manifest, that there is not amongst you any one and simple Doctrine, but diverse opinions fond jarring within themselves. It followeth.  
Then have we a common order of prayer out of the holy Scriptures, confirmed by the authority of a Parliament, (for so do they term the consent of the estates of our Realm) from the which we suffer no man to departed. By what order, law, or authority is this done: that a Council, or as you call it, a Parliament, should so impudently usurp the office of the Catholic Church, to make orders for prayers, prescribe how religion ought to be used, and not suffer any man to departed from the order which it hath decreed? For in holy things it is not lawful for these men to geave laws, but to take laws. For otherwise they shall disturb the common weal, if they will not content themselves with their own vocation, but will thrust themselves into other men's doings: and they shall mar Religion, if they will in matters appertaining to them only, that sustain the person of the Church, take upon them to meddle, and transpose the dignity of Priests to themselves. You say afterward.  
Providing both in the one and in the other, so much as we could, that the commandment of the holy ghost be obeyed, the which, willeth that such as speak in the Church, should use the word of God: and that there should be one common and agreeable Doctrine amongst them all. You do very well undoubtedly. But wherehence riseth this so great debate and hourly burly for Religion in your Churches? Wherefore are the confessions and Credes so often chopped and changed in places, where Luther hath had a great name?  
And we provide, say you, that the Sacraments be ministered very near unto the prescribed order of the holy scriptures, and according to the example of the old Church, in the which our Lord jesus Christ first ordained them himself with his Apostles. O valiant men, worthy to be commended above the heavens. O glorious attempt. O lively courage of lusty bloods, the which thought it not enough to approach near unto the holiness of the old Church, but they would press even at the very hard heals of them. It followeth.  
All these things are set out in our own mother tongue, because it is a great madness for a man to babble out before God, he can not tell what: and it is directly against the most wholesome doctrine of S. Paul, and all the ancient examples of the apostolic Churches. It is not you only, that teach such as 
Prayer in the vulgar tongue.  understand not the Latin, to pray in their own tongue. For we also do not suffer such, as are ignorant in the Latin speech, to serve God, but only in their own mother tongue: and there are many books of prayers and holy scriptures written, not by Parliament, as you call it, but by holy Priests: the which (being first examined by the prelate's of the church) are sent abroad everywhere, and by them are children, women, and simple folkestrained in the knowledge of their duty towards God. And the things that are thus written, they are not taken out of every man's fantasy, but out of the holy Scriptures, and out of the writings and examples of holy men. So that there lacketh not omongest us any discipline of manners, nor example of virtue, nor good bringing up in true religion, to all such, as could not employ themselves to the study of learning. We have also many sermons, by the which men are stirred up to the love of godliness and religion. But 
Discreti● in preaching.  in preaching we use much discretion and wariness, that none of those questions be opened amongst women and ignorant folks, which are not very necessary unto salvation, and yet may quickly entangle their minds with very troublesome dowbtes and scruples. For as S. Gregory of Nazianzene saith very wisely: it is not convenient to reason and dispute of God, neither to all men, neither in the presence of all men, neither at all times, neither of all matters, neither without good discretion. For there is required to 
Things requisite in a preacher.  the doing of this thing a marvelous cleans of sowl and body, a veri calm and well settled mind, good time, convenient opportunity, earnest zeal, much fearfulness and exceeding great moderarion. For there is no man so simple, that he can not understand the difficulty of every question: but there are few so witty, that they canrid themselves out of the briars, when they are once fallen in. And this is the cause, why many men are confounded in questions, but few escape out of their snares. Moreover such is the arrogancy and pride of certain ignorant fellows, that they become intolerable, if they can attain never so little knowledge in any thing, which they knew not before, specially if it be in expounding the holy scriptures. For they will judge so presumptuously of the highest points of Divinity (the which they understand not) as though they were called to be of God's privy counsel: the which rashness hath bred many wicked and troublesome errors, and caused much dissension. But the end of the law, saith S. Paul, is not the vaunting of learning, 
●. Tim. 1. b  but charity from a pure heart, and good conscience, and faith unfeigned. He therefore that can bring to pass, that all men may be, linked the one to the other in charity, furnished with virtues, established in true faith: although he beat not into the heads of the unlearned people a hundred questions touching predestination, yet shall he show him to be a very good preacher. 
Not necessary t● have the scripture● in the vulgar tongue.  Therefore for so much as this aught to be our only intent, how to plant charity, innocency, and faith in the hearts of men: and that may very well be taught without this translation of the holy scriptures: what needed it, to take the things that were contained in the latin tongue without peril, and to translate them into the English tongue with great danger? Marry sir, say you, it is against the most wholesome doctrine of S. Paul How so I pray you? If you mark well the meaning of S. Paul, you shall see, that his words are nothing contrary to our purpose.  
But first of all it is to be known, that in S. Paul's time all Christian men in a manner were endued with such virtues and qualities, as few men in our days can attain unto by study and faith. Then it is also to be considered, that there were in those days divers gifts and graces of the holy ghost given unto such men, as were inflamed with the love of Christ. Howbeit, although they were taught and schooled of the holy Ghost, yea and well instructed to be humble and modest: yet were they in no small danger of pride. The which is not to be wondered at, for so much as S. Paul himself the master of heavenly wisdom, the perfect example of humility and modesty affirmeth, that the prick of 
●. Cor. 12. b.  the flesh was a thing necessary for him, lest the knowledge of the secrets of God might puff up his mind. Now as many were puffed up with those gifts, so were such, as had the gift of tongues, somewhat more insolent than other men: and they would praise God in divers tongues, which other men understood not, without any interpreter. There was also an other great inconvenience, which was, that he, that spoke with unknown tongues, would not tarry till an other man had made an end of speaking, but at one time a great many together would praise God in strange tongues. And these three discommodities were caused in their assembles, for lack of discretion in those good men. The first was the arrogant setting out of the gifts of God: the second was the disquieting of such as would teach: the third was the breaking of order, which of all things becometh the Church of Christ best.  
But S. Paul very wisely removeth all these things. For to place humility, he putteth all men in mind of that most wretched state in the which they had lived before, when through the motion of the enemy the devil they went suppliantly afterydols: that they might the more easily gather by that, that 
1. Cor. 1● a.  those gifts ought to be referred, not to their deserts, but to the infinite mercy of God.  
He teacheth them also, that other men were not to be despised, the which, although they had not received those gifts, yet were they not utterly void of the gifts of God: for so much as no man can confess our Lord jesus from his heart but by the benefit of the 
1. Cor. 12. a.  holy Ghost.  
After that he declareth how that the gift, which every man hath received, he hath received it, not for himself only, but for all other: and that it ought therefore to be employed to the profit of the universal Church.  
Then he showeth how amongst all the gifts of God, charity hath the highest room and dignity, that they might thereby understand, that it skilleth not much, how many tongues a man knew, or else how great miracles he was able to work, but with how great zeal and diligence he furthered the Church.  
Last of all making a comparison between the gift of tongues and prophecy, he despiseth not tongues, but perferreth prophesying far before the tongues. And these are the places, by the which the Apostle brought the men of that time from a certain kind of lightness, to the love of gravity and modesty.  
But that disorder of talking together 
1. Cor. 14. f.  and hindering one an other in such sort, that the profit of teaching was thereby lost, S. Paul took it a way, when he said. But if any man speak with tongue, let it be done by two, or at the most by three, and let one expound. For you may prophecy by one and one, and you may speak by one and one. And lest any man might say, that he was violently moved by the spirit, in such sort, that he could not refrain himself from speaking: the Apostle saith, that the spirit of prophets is subject unto the Prophets. Wherein he teacheth them, that it lay in them, which were moved by the holy Ghost, to moderate the gift of the holy Ghost.  
Finally he setteth an order, (of the which he had said much before) by 
1. Cor. 14. f.  these words Endeavour yourselves to prophecy, and forbidden no man to speak with tongues. But let all things be done honestly and orderly. The Apostle forbiddeth not to use strange tongues: but yet he preferreth before tongues the gift of prophecy, that is to say, the declaration of the will of God, and the edifying of the Church: and he commandeth, that all things be done with very good order.  
Now there are two points to be considered in this place: the one is, that, amongst many things, which may be done at one time at our pleasure indifferently, look what things may be omitted without offence, are to be omitted, when any danger that may thereupon ensue, and the time so requireth. And therefore, although in S. Paul's time all mysteries might be communicated to all men: it followeth not, that they should, in our days (when there is no like capacity in all men to conceive them) be committed to all men indifferently without any respect of persons.  
The other point is, that the meaning of S. Paul in all that disputation was, to keep down pride, to set up charity, and to command, that order should be kept. He therefore that giveth occasion of pride, that slaketh love and charity, that distourbeth good order, although he seem to follow the words of S. Paul, yet goeth he directly against the meaning of S. Paul.  
These things being thus determined, I will ask you a question: what came into your brains, to be so desirous to take all the volumes of the holy Scripture, and without any necessity, ye with no small danger of the unlearned people, to commit them to every iackestraw to expound? did you it, to restrain the pride of such as are base? No: you have rather puffed up their hearts incredibly, causing them to conceive a false opinion of wisdom in themselves. Was it done to cause a more fervent charity amongst them? No: you have rather forced the weak minds to fall out within themselves, through your divers, yea and contrary expositions of the law of God. Was it done to set all things in good order? No: you have rather overthrown all good and ancient order. For now every man is a prophet, every man is a shepherd, every man is a doctor, every man will prate in every place very unseemly of matters of divinity, every man will babble what him listeth of the highest Mysteries, the lowest point whereof is far above his capacity. This is by like your providence, whereby you have taken quite away that silence which was used of old time in the churches: that bashfulness, which became honest matroves marvelously well: that modesty, which kept the simple people very well in their duty. And so it is come to pass, that whereas you pretend to follow the words of S. Paul, you bend yourselves earnestly against his meaning.  
What lacked there, I pray you, in the old time, that was necessary to keep honest hearts in a sober discicipline? Were there not learned Priests, the which were able to choose out of the holy mysteries so much as was needful to salvation, and so much as they might declare unto the ignorant people without dawnger? Were there none to supply the place of the unlearned man, and to answer Amen? Was the sound and words of the Latin tongue so strange, that no man understood it in all your Churches? Needed there the authority of the Apostle to break up that disordered confusion of many tongues together, when there was heard, in the common prayers of the churches, but one kind of speech only, and that by long custom very well known and commonly used?  
If the use of one common tongue joineth the minds of men in one, than was there nothing more agreeable to the rule of Christ, then that the service of God should be openly said in one only tongue, the which was in all churches of the west part of the world learned in schools, and practised in the daily affairs: and nothing less convenient, then that the service is now said in so many tongues as there are nations, amongst whom men without learning, without wit, without religion take upon them the office of expounding the holy Scriptures. Wherefore neither was our simplicity so unprofitable, as you wise men thought it was: neither is your provident wariness so wholesome, as your masters imagined it would have been. For out of it are risen errors, and disorders, and a false opivion of wisdom (which is the greatest madness in the world) with many other discommodities.  
Then you go forward in the declaration of the doctrine of your Church, saying. We use at the laying on of hands, the celebration of marriage, the churching of women after child bearing, the visiting of the sick, and the burying of the dead, solemn and public service set out according to the truth of the gospel. All the rest you comprehend very briefly in one sentence, persuading yourself, that it is sufficiently declared, that you are not destitute, neither of Sacraments, neither of any other things appertaining to religion.  
You confess plainly after that, that you have shaken of from you, the yoke of the high Bishop or Pope: because it was heavier, then that either you or your fathers could bear it. Your fathers and ancestors I know, did bear it very well and with great commendation: but you● grant, were not able to bear it. For how had it been lawful for you, to break violently into the monasteries, to disannul the rules of monks, to deflower the holy and chaste Virgins, to deface like ungodly and furious men all orders of religion, to lay your greedy and violent hands upon the Church goods appointed to holy uses, to pull ●owne all monuments of virtue and godliness, to overthrow the ancient Church, and to botch up an other at your pleasure: if this yoke had not been first taken of from your necks? You bring in a little after.  
Neither do we acknowledge any Bishop, but only our Lord jesus Christ, to whom the holy scriptures appoint this peculiar honour. O worthy saying, full of wonderful godliness, and containing in it a most evident proof of heavenly life. What shall we do to these men, which are so holy, so utterly void of all care of this present life, that for the desire and love of the presence of Christ himself, they can not abide to see any Vicar of Christ upon the earth. But let us see a little. This name of Christ, doth it import the dignity and office of a bishop only, or else doth it comprehend also the authority and majesty of a King? Surely it can not be denied, that by the word and meaning of Christ, in this name of Christ is contained the power both of a bishop and of a King. Why then do you acknowledge any other king, beside our Lord jesus Christ? Why are you not so free and earnest, to shake of this yoke that remaineth? Why suffer you this freedom of your gospel to be hindered through the power and authority of a King? Why do you not (as it hath been already attempted in other places, which are infected with the self same religion) bend yourselves earnestly to make away the majesty of a King? for as you acknwolege one only high bishop, so is it necessary to obei one only King. If you think it meet to have an other king in th' earth, as Vicar of that high and almighty king: what is the c●use, why you would not have an other bishop as Vicar of that most high and holy bishop? But you will say. We have bishops, but we will have no high bishop: Why then, it is not the name of a bishop, but of a high bishop, that offendeth you. Wherefore think you then, that the authority of a kings power (which dowbtles is the highest) is to be borne in England? Are there not magistrates amongst you? Is there not a public counsel? Have you not Princes and Lords? Then take away the controversy of the name, and there are in England a great many, (as there are also amongst us) the which have the authority of kings, although they be not called by the name of Kings. Ymagin● therefore, that they were certain little kings. What needed it then, being so many kings amongst you, that there should be any one high or supreme king, to restrain by his authority the other inferior kings? For if you think that this word (high) mai not be born in the dignity of a bishop: why do you not in like manner detest the name of highness in the Majesty of a king? No, say you, it was very wisely provided, that all the magistrates and Princes in England should have one supreme Prince, whom they should all reverence, and by whose power and authority they should be all restrained: for otherwise, it cannot be chosen, but that there would be stirred up much trouble and discord, to the great peril of the whole realm. I think you say truly. And therefore I affirm in like manner, that in the Church, which ought to be always one, it is necessary, that there be one supreme power of a high bishop, whose authority all other Bishops should reverence. For otherwise it must needs be, that there arise much debate and many pestilent sects, to the great ruin and decay of the Church, and that the Church be brought thereby into very great danger. For if within the space of forty years, sense a great piece of Germany, and afterwards England fell from the Bishop of Rome, so many s●ditions have risen amongst the Princes of your Religion, that they can not possibly agree, neither with other men, neither yet within themselves: what end, think you, will ensue, in case all Christendom (the which God forbidden) being thereunto procured and moved by your diligence and unreasonable means, should rebel with the like outrage and madness? It remaineth therefore, that, as in England there is one supreme power, which comprehend●th all other Princes underneath it: so there be also in the Church one supreme authority, the which all other inferior powers must willingly and diligently obey. For otherwise it is not possible, that the crewel tempests risen in the Church should ever be slaked, or the flames of discord quenched, or the civil wars ended. Now, for so much as Christ is the author of peace: Whosoever will say, that they will have but one only bishop which is our Lord jesus Christ, and by the religious pretence of this word, will open a gap to so many opinions, and to so much pestilent dissension: they are liars. No, they do rather fight against Christ, and worship Satan the author of debate and discord. But contrary wise, such as honour and reverence the bishop of Rome as the Vicar of Christ, for that respect only, because he is the lieutenant of Christ in the earth: they do in deed acknowledge only Christ to be the high Priest.  
And yet you say, that, by this your rebellion and contempt, you do not cut and mangle the coat of Christ, but only give a touch at the Bishop of Rome's cloak. And by and by after you bring in these words. Neither do we lay open the way, as you say, to sedition, but we do dam up the path, the▪ which goeth down, through his licentious lead, to the great decay of good manners. Of this lead, and of your notable reproach I have spoken before, with as much modesty, as the matter would suffer me. But of this your base, vile, and shameless boldness, when you say, that you have not rend and torn the coat of Christ, but rather, that you have, by this your most wicked rebellion, made a goodly provision, that good manners should not decay, I can not well tell what to say to you. Dare you, seeing everywhere, as you do, that there are so many divisions of pestilent sects, with so much debate and discord: that there is no certain faith amongst you, no agreement in Religion: that your confessions are changed almost every day, your beliefs and Creeds corrected: that the old places of doctrine are disannulled, and new set up: that manifold sects ariseth daily, and the old Church is divided in many parts: how dare you, I say, report, that this your falling from the Church hath not mangled the coat of Christ? When you see with your eyes, that pride, arrogancy, disobedience, stubbornness, saucy talk, slanderous report, fleshly pleasure, naughtiness, dishonesty, tumult and sedition goeth up and down freely and uncontrolled, wheresoever your masters put their foot: with what face dare you say, that you have after this rebellion set the manners of men in good and seemly ordre? The thing itself speaketh, daily examples declare, neither do the open assizes, no neither secret parlars hold their peace.  
But let us now see, how worshipfully you confute that my discourse as touching the Monarchy of the holy Church. You say. In the best time of the Church, there was one God and one faith. That is true. But now neither is there one God, nor one faith amongst the ministers of your gospel. For one offereth up divine honour to pleasure, an other to madness: some to the bailie, and some to railing. Luther hath one faith, Bucer an other, Zwinglius hath one, and Calvin an other. And yet you say.  
Peter had his Province, Paul had his, and james his, and other had other Provinces. And yet did not this separation of their persons disjoin the unity of their saith. What conclude you then? may it be gathered by these things, that you say, that Peter, when he was resident in one Province, had no pre-eminence over the rest of the Apostles? That is not well concluded of these things, that you have spoken. For now every bishop hath his Province, and the Bishop of Rome hath his. And yet are we all subject unto him by the law of God. It followeth.  
In process of time, many of the Bishops of Rome, were Martyrs, and were sacrificed unto God by profane and ungodly Princes: but Crowns had they none, unless it were the Crowns of martyrdom. This extraordinary sovereignty of Popedom, they knew not. Yes M. Haddon, it is well known, that the most blessed Princes and sovereigns of the Church of Rome themselves, to wit, Clement, and Evaristus, and Lucius, and Marcellus, and Pius, the which attained the Crown of martyrdom with very great glory, whom neither ambition, nor any other unlawful desire moved to seek for that supreme honour: do bear witness against you. For their writings declare plainly, that their judgement was, that the sovereignty of the universal Church, was ever in the Church of Rome. What should I here rehearse Ireneus, Augustine, and all other holy Fathers? What should I here unfold the memory of all the antiquity? Of the new writers read, if it please you, Eckius, the B. of Rochester, Cocleus, Pighius, and such other most excellent men both for virtue and learning, and you shall see, how ignorant you are in this matter of the supremacy. They dispute and contend, not with reproachful words, not with lies not with impudence: but with testimonies of the holy Scriptures, but with the authorities of the holy Fathers, but with examples of the unspotted antiquity: and they press their adversaries, and prove them to be not only wicked fellows, but also very mad and frantic men. But how is it possible, that you should understand these things? What time could you spend in the study of Divinity, being a man always conversant in the law court, and hindered with many affairs? And so, me thinketh, that you are not so much to be blamed, as your masters, the which have nuzzled you in so many errors. How be it you are also to be blamed for two points. The first is lightness, for that you have so lightly given credit to naughty men. The other is impudence, for that you have so rashly avouched things, that you never read. Tell me, I pray you, where have you read, that Gregory did abandon this supreme dignity of the B. of Rome? And yet you put it in your oration affirming it full stoutly, and are never a whit ashamed of your lying. At the length you conclude thus. Wherefore if the best state of the church, was without this Monarchy: may also lack it full well: yea we ought to lack it, not only because it is expressly forbidden by the Gospel, but also because it standeth well with reason. What a rashness and impudency is this in you, to conclude an Argument after this sort without all reason? You must bring in your conclusion upon things, that are true, known, and agreed upon, not upon things that are false and not granted. If you be ignorant in this, you are a very dolt: if you know it, and yet will go about to conclude your argument upon false propositions, without any proof going before: you are to be taken as a very shameless sophister. For amongst the guiles and subtleties, which the babbling sophisters are wont to use, this is accounted for one of the first, to go about to conclude what them listeth, upon things, that are not true, neither granted, neither agreed upon. If the best state of the Church, say you, was without this Monarchy, we may also lack it full well. What, if the best state of the Church was never without this Monarchy, may you then lack it? I think not. If it be then proved by writings and records, yea and by the full agreement of all the holy Fathers, that the best state of the Church was never without this Monarchy: if you are able, neither to confute the authorities, neither to make any good proof for yourself, neither to bring any sure ground of antiquity, but only in bare words to say, what ye list: do you not see, that all you● talk is faint and weak, and that it is pitifully shaken and battered of itself without gunshot? And yet, as though you had already contrived the whole matter according to your hearts desire; you say moreover: Yea we ought to looked it. How prove you, that it is of du●tie? What fruit can you show of this your wicked rebellion? What light have you showed to the world by this your outrage and madness so wonderful, that you may well say, that you have discharged your duty and office commendably.  
Now, whereas you say, that the Gospel forbiddeth it expressly, you declare the very true cause of all your doings. For it seemeth, that you are minded to do that only, that the Gospel of Christ forbiddeth you to do. How be it you would not say so, but rather that you do by the warrant of the Gospel refuse the authority of the B. of Rome. Such is your eloquence, that you are not able marlie times, to utter your own meaning. But by what testimony of the Gospel, by what authority have you proved it? Bring forth the place, press us with the words, convince us with the commandment, show where the Gospel hath forbidden, not darkly, but by express and plain words, that we should not acknowledge any one man as the high Vicar of Christ in the earth.  
You say moreover, that it standeth with reason: whereas you never showed before, how reason and this your lewdness may stand together. And yet, as though you had most plainly and invincibly proved the matter: you do not only conclude veri much besides the purpose, but also vaunt yourself beyond all modesty. Some ill hap come to that fellow your Schoolmaster, that brought you up so ill. It is like, he took upon him to make you eloquent: and he made you not only a babe, but also an untoward and a 〈…〉 Wherefore I would give you 〈◊〉 to take an action against him, to make him repay his waiges, that he took of you. For you bestowed your time very ill with him, the which might have been better spent in drawing out writes and processes in the Law. But let us see, what reason you bring. You say. Neither can the head so far from the members disagree conveniently. What are you 
Conuenienter dis●idere. are M. Haddons' words in Latin.  yet to learn to speak Latin? What mean you by this? What is to disagree conveniently? For the thing that is in itself convenient, is nothing disagreeable. Whereas you say therefore, that a thing doth disagree conveniently, you speak not pure and clean Latin, but you use a monstrous kind of Latin speech. For this cause I am not ashamed to confess so often, that I do not understand, what you say. I suspect, you would say in this place, that it is not possible, that the head should 〈◊〉 be joined unto the members being so far asunder. If you say so, you are much deceived, if you believe that the conjunction of the church consisteth in the nighness of places, and not in the consent of faith, and agreement in one Religion. But if you do comprise under this disordered kind of speech, some other more secret mystery: When you have exponnded yourself, than peradventure I will answer you. You say afterward. Especially for somuch as this Monarchy or only sovereignty, for the which you labour so much, we have it at hand at home with us in England, so that we need not to seek it abroad. It is not my part to rehearse all your words after you, like a child. But I will ask you this one thing, what only power or sovereignty is that? We have, say you, the absolute authority of a kings Majesty, wherein is contained fully and wholly the Princely estate of our common weal. What, would you also, that the supreme authority of the Church should be subject unto this Kingly Majesty, as you say? For no man ever said, that your common weal ought to be governed by the authority of the Bishop of Rome, in matters concerning the state of your civil affairs: but only, that the Church of England can not refuse by any means without great offence the authority of the Bishop of Rome. For this do we contend and, as you say, labour so earnestly. This is that, which you say is nothing necessary: for so much as the kings Majesty hath an absolute authority amongst you, and therefore you need not seek any other abroad. You say therefore expressly, that your Queen doth rightfully take upon her the government of England in spiritual matters. And the more hardly to press me therewithal, you reason with me after this fort. But surely this seemeth unto you, a thing not to be borne. And in this place you are so chaused, that you lay Sacrilege unto Prince's charges, because they will rule the laws of the Church▪ and unreverently handle holy things. Anon after, you counsel me like a sage and grave man, that I should tempre my choler, saying unto me. O Master Jerome be not over much disquieted. Such great choler and wrath is not seemly in a Philosopher. In this place, M. Waulter, if you dally, you dally very stalely. If you speak in earnest, it is nothing true that you say. Neither was it anger (which is a sudden rage stirred through the opinion conceived of dishonesty) that could have moved me to write those my letters, for so much as I was never provoked to displeasure with so much as one rough word of any English man: but it was the love of most holy Religion, and the good will I bear towards the Queen, that moved me to send those letters, and to advertise her to eschew the danger that hanged over her and her Realm. Neither is there any token of anger to be seen in my talk, except you will call a just and lamentable complaint of the state of our most unhappy time, anger. But that that followeth, how prettily it was spoken? Take breath a little. As though you had with this your wonderful force of talk so disquieted me, that I could not take my breath. Then that other saying of yours, what a pleasant grace it hath: Come to yourself again. This is a foul rebuke. For it seemeth to M. Haddon a wise man, whose judgement was always simple, pure, and uncorrupted, that I am out of my wits. Or else he would never warn me, to come to myself again. You say afterwards. You shall see all shall be well. That do I look for in ded●: how be it I am sore afraid, left you being an eloquence man and wonderful in persuading▪ may force me to believe things, that are not proved unto me. Yet I look for your reason, by the which you will prove, that it is lawful for your Queen to meddle in Ecclesiastical matters, and to lai● such laws upon Churches, as her listeth. What say you Sir? The kings Majesty, say you, mastereth all persons in England. What else? So doth the French King the French men, and the Scottish King the Scots. I commend your briefness in reasoning. For you conclude all in one word, as often as you list, and that marvelous wittily. But yet you take such things, as are neither true, neither of force to conclude those things, that you would prove. For first of all, the government of a King is not violent, neither tyrannical: and such as he hath taken upon him to maintain▪ like a loving Father, he doth not master them like servants: neither doth he employ his regiment to his own commodity, but to the safety of his subjects. It is therefore false, that he doth master them, except he would rather be accounted a tyrant, than a King. Moreover, admit it were true, yet doth it not follow, that he doth govern them in all matters. That therefore, that you should have proved, you lai● for a ground, as though it were already proved and granted: the which is one of the greatest faults, that mai be in a disputer. Last of all, neither doth the french King govern the french men in spiritual matters, neither the Scotish King the Scots: and if he do (the which is nothing true) then doth he not his own office, but usurpeth an other man's. Yet you say. But the Queen putteth not her hand unto holy things. Why so, I pray you, M, Haddon? Is it because she thinketh it not lawful? Or else because she will not? If she think, that it is not lawful, then doth she speak directly against you. If she be occupied with other affairs, and therefore committeth holy things to men of the basest sort, she doth otherwise then her estate requireth. For she thinketh, that there is some other thing to be preferred before holy things. You say. The civil affairs are committed to the civil magistrates, the Church matters to the Bishops. What Bishops mean you? Are they those Bishops, that you have violently thrust out of their Bishopriks', and cast into the jails? or else are they such as you have caught up in the streets, and from the alebenches, and have placed them in the room of those most holibishops? O what an honourable presence of Bishops is that, for all subjects to reverence, and all ill men to be afraid of? But I would feign learn of you, what goodly gloss of virtue was that, that moved you to place those base fellows in this room and dignity? Was it their marvelous and chaste life, which you can not abide? Was it the knowledge of holy Scriptures, the which they had learned in taverns, or in schools, where perhaps they had been Masters? Was it their wonderful eloquence, where with they were able to withdraw the common people from licentious living to continency, which they themselves abhor? For it is to be thought, that they that deprived those godly and learned Bishops of all their dignities, would not have done such wrong unto the virtuous men: unless they had meant to set other in their places, that did very far exceed them in all godliness, learning and eloquence.  
But I would demand one thing of you: if they be so holy, so learned, and so eloquent, wherefore did you not commit unto them above all other this care and charge to write against me? Wherefore would you betray to the world your own ignoaance and babishn●sse? Was there such a scarcity of learned Bishops, that you must needs take upon you a charge that was none of yours, no nor seemly for you to meddle in? For, to maintain Religion, appertaineth to a Bishop, not to a man, that is to urmoiled in the suits and questions of the civil Law. If they did not excel in such virtues and qualities as are to be required in Bishops, what a froward malice was that to thrust out the good Bishops, and to put such base fellows in their rooms and dignities? You politic wise man, do you not see that that common weal is near to utter ruin and decay, wherein such honours as are dew to honesty and virtue are given to base varlets? But be it, that they had been promoted to this honour for their excellent qualities (for I can not well guess the truth of the matter: and it may be that they were, before they came to that dignity, put to school to Bucere or else to your Martyr:) but sir, I demand of you, by what right or justice was it done? Howbeit as touching justice you have already satisfied me, when you affirmed, that within the compass of the Queen's majesties authority is contained, what so ever concerneth God or man. But yet I pray you tell me, with what ceremony, with what solemnity, with what Religion was it done? Who laid hands on them? who consecrated them? I would know what holiness and purity you used in the doing of it. For it is like, that such fine and dainty fellows as you are, were offended with our ceremonies, (the which peradventure might seem unto you very stolen and old) and therefore you devised other much trimmer than ours, the which you have brought not near, but, as you term it, exceeding near to the very pattern of the gospel.  
You say afterward, that the Church matters are ordered by the bishops: but when there i● ought to be decreed, the divines do determine it. It is evident, that you call them divines, who were brought up under Bucer or Calvin. Why then have you diminished the right of bishops? for it pertaineth to the bishops to determine: the divines have no more to do, but only to assist the bishops with their advise. But you in giving over the right of the bishops to the divines, declare, that your bishops are no divines. Your bishops therefore are (as the common report is) not only poor scrapers and base fellows, but also utterly ignorant in the holy Scriptures. And men say, that the principal cause why they are chosen, is, that they must content themselves with some scantling of their revenues, and leave the rest to be rifled of you under pretence of the Queen's escheker. If this be not true, you must not blame me, a man (as you say yourself) unacqueinted in the affairs of England: but the false report of your ill willers. Yet, this I warn you, that you and such as you are, do sustain the great dint of this infamy. For when you choose such Bishops, you make men suspect, that you are greedy and covetous.  
You conclude at the length, that both the administration of the bishops, and decrees of the divines are authorized by the confirmation of the queens Majesty. Why then, if there shallbe any thing done by the bishops, or else determined by the divines, that is not for the Queen's profit, that shall not be ratified.  
Here you speak darkly, I can not tell what, of the Kings of Israel, as though the Priests in old time had done all things, that concerned religion, after the prescribed ordre of kings: the which is false. You say afterward. Then the gospel succeeding and dividing these powers, in the first place it setteth the authority of Kings, and under it other powers by the authority of Peter and Paul, whose names you abuse to set up the kingdom of the sea of Rome. 
Flattery.  O what a plague and destruction of common weals, what a whirl wind and tempest to your most flourishing Island, what an utter ruin and decay of all kingdoms and peoples is this, that is comprised under the naughtiness, audacity, cruelty, and covetousness of flatterers? What wild beast can any man devise in the world more horrible and crewel, than it is? For what so ever the pleasure of Kings standeth unto, be it never so wicked, heinous and ungodly, be it not only hurtful to the common weal, but also contrary to all good and godly ordre: it is made forthwith by those clawbacks, whom they call to their counsel, to be dewtiful, just, commendable, religious, most wholesome to the common weal, and most acceptable to God. The which thing is well known to have chanced unto king Henry, who was until that time both for his virtue, wit, and deeds a most noble and renowned Prince. For when as the king had conceived an earnest love, and also an earnest displeasure, and was desirous both to satisfy his love, and also to revenge the displeasure taken of the Pope (who forbade the new marriage) he was brought, by the persuasion and authority of a certain wicked man, to believe, that he was suprem head of all the Churches that are within the realm of England. This thing was the undoing of the bishop of Rochester, and More, and of other holy men, that abide extreme punishments: if a most honourable death constantly suffered for the glory of Christ and establishing of religion may be called an undoing. From hence as out of a flou●dgate issued so many pestilent opinions, such a broil of sects and heresies, such outrages of lewd fellows into the state of the Church of England, to the great decay of the ancient custom.  
But what was the place, the which that most vile corrupter would abuse to prove it? Submit yourselves, saith S. 
1. Pet. ●. c.  Peter, to every worldly wight for gods sake, whether it be to the King, as to the more excellent parsonage, or else to the rulers, as sent from God, for the punishment of malefactors, and commendation of good men▪ what other thing doth S. Peter in these words but only cut of all occasion of disordre and outrage? for he would not, that, by the pretenced name of the liberty of the gospel, the common weal should be disordered, or the society of men by civil policy gathered together be dissolved. And therefore doth he bind all Christian men to the laws and ordinances of men, so that they be not against the law of God. He commandeth servants to obey their masters, be they never so crewel: women to obey their husbands: husbands to honour their wives: children to obei their parents▪ parents to love their children, and to provide for their bringing up and maintenance. Finally the holy Apostle commandeth, that ordre both in commanding and obeying be kept (whether it be public or private) without any grudging or pretending of excessive liberty. The which ordre was to be kept of Christian men with so much the more diligence, as it was convenient, that their virtue should shine more than the virtue of other men. 
Ro. 13. a.  The self same thing doth S. Paul, when he warneth us to submit ourselves to the magistrates, and to obey the lawful commandments of Princes. He teacheth masters and servants, parents and children, husbands and wives the very same lessons.  
I demand now of you, what goodly pregnant wit is this of yours, or rather of them that brought you into so great an error: that they would pick such a meaning, as you speak of, out of these words of S. Peter? Did this word, More excellent, move you to do▪ it? Surely that were a manifest token of a very great folly, and extreme madness. For so do we say in common speech; that that man doth excel in nobility, or is More excellent, which is in deed very noble, although he be not of all other most noble. So do we say also, that a man excelleth, or is More excellent than other, in virtue, or learning or authority, the which passeth other in these qualities, although he pass not all the world in them. The self same signification and meaning hath the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and such is the use of it. Moreover when we say, that an●● man excelleth in some one thing, we do not by and by in so saying yield, that he doth excel in all things: but in that thing only, whereof we spoke. If mention were made of the civil law, and we would say, that M. Waulter Haddon did excel in the knowledge of the civil law▪ we did not in so saying geave him authority to expound the holy Scriptures, wherein he is altogether ignorant.  
I would now demand of you, what matter was S. Peter about, when he said that the king was the more excellent parsonage? Was he about the government of Churches, or things appertaining to religion? No doubtless, but about civil government, the which he would not have to be disordered by any sedition.  
What goeth S. Paul about, when he commandeth us to submit ourselves to all powers? The self same thing, 
Rom. 13. a.  that S. Peter doth. And to confirm that, he showeth that all power is ordained and appointed by God. And to teach us, that this is our bownden duty by the law of God, he saith: Geave therefore to all men their dew. Tribute, to whom you own tribute: custom, to whom you own custom: fear, to whom fear is dew: and honour, to whom honour appertaineth. It liketh not the Apostles to have any sedition or broil in the common weal; or any thing that may disturb the peace and good order. And therefore, although Princes were at that time very ill affected towards the most holy ordinances of Christ: yet in matters appertaining to the civil government, they command all Christian men, not only to obey their Princes, but also to make their humble prayers unto God 
1. Tim. 2. a  for their good estate. S. Peter therefore gave not unto the king, in calling him more excellent, the supreme authority in the Church: (neither did any man ever dream of▪ that besides you) but he granted unto him the supreme power in the civil government.  
Tell me, I pray you, who held the kingdom at that time, when S. Peter wrote these things? either it was Caius, or Claudius, or Nero. For Tiberius (which was also a naughty and unjust man, as we may conjecture) was dead before. Is this your judgement then M. Haddon, that Peter and Paul did command, that the Precedent of the Church should do nothing, but by order of Caius, or Claudius, or Nero: that he should retain such Priests only, as they would have and put away the rest, if it liked the emperor: that he should, if there chanced any difficulty or hard question in the Church, refer it to Cesar: or that (to be short) he should minister all the ceremonies and sacraments of our religion according to Nero his pleasure? If these things be void of all wit and reason, then is that your opinion, whereupon these things do necessaliy follow, such, that if you would study for it, you can not devise any thing more foolish and unreasonable.  
But you will say, that this sentence of S. Peter pertaineth not to such Princes as are enemies to the faith of Christ, but only to Christian Princes. If you say so, then are you of this mind, that S. Peter gave this commandment to the Christians, that, so long as such men reigned, as were not well affected towards the name of Christ, they should not acknowledge their authority, they should not regard their officers and magistrates, they should despise their laws, they should like rebels disorder the peace and tranquillity of the common weal. The which it were a very great madness to speak. For then to what purpose should S. Peter bring in this sentence 
1. Pet. 2. c.  afterward. That you may, saith he, by well doing▪ put the ignorance of foolish men to silence. Doubtless, if they had not obeyed ungodly Princes, no man would have been put to silence by them: but every man would have set upon them, (and that for their desert) as upon peace breakers and enemies to all good order.  
If then neither the signification of the word requireth it, neither will reason bear it, neither the comely division of the orders ecclesiastical and temporal by any means in the world suffer it, that kings should bear any sway in the Church: what a strange kind of flattery was this in you, to yield unto kings a full power and supreme authority in Churches? But what a shameless part is that in you, to affirm by the authority of S. Peter and Paul, that the authority of kings is above all other authorities? I grant you, that kings are by the authority of S. Peter set over all rulers and governors in the civil government: but not over things appertaining to religion, not over the holy ordinances of the church, not over the sacraments and service made to appease the wrath of God.  
And whereas you say, that we do abuse th' authority of S. Peter and Paul to set up the kingdom of the sea of Rome, it is false. For we lean to the words of Christ, when we defend the authority of the bishop of Rome: and who so ever doth violently wrest the most plain words of Christ, we judge him to be a presumptuous fellow, we take him for an unreasonable, naughty and wicked person. But before I proceed unto other matters, I think it expedient briefly to signify these things unto you.  

Lay men plagued of God for taking upon them the office of Priests. Num. 16. a  Dathan and Abiron, for using violence towards the Priests of God, were with a terrible noise and sudden earthquake devoured with all the company of their wicked complices. Core in like manner with the rest of his conspiracy, for taking upon them impudently and wickedly the office of Priests, 
2. Re. 6▪ a.  were consumed with sudden fire. Oza, by cause he presumed a little to stay up with his hand the Ark of promise being like to fall, was suddenly stricken dead. Ozias the king, by cause he would have 

2. Paral▪ 26. d.  
Daniel. 5▪ g.   usurped the office of a Priest, was dissigured with the lepry. Balsesar the king of Babylon, because he took the vessels that were appointed to holy uses, and did use them to riot and banquet in, lost in one night his kingdom, his riches, and his life. But you, neither do you fear the everlasting gulf of hell, neither do you tremble at the thunder and fire of God's wrath, neither are you afraid of any punishment dew unto your rash presumpteousnes, neither do you regard the lepry of perpetual infamy, neither do you take any care, lest ye be rob and spoiled of the riches of the everlasting kingdom together with the loss of your wordly dignity, and temporal life.  
But all these things not withstanding, you leave not to rail at the Pope's dignity. What (a mischief) hatred is this towards the Pope, so cruel and so bitter, that you repeat one thing so often? You say thus. But you contend not only for the Pope's sceptre, but also for his holy ordinances and Decrees▪ (as you esteem them) by the decay whereof you think that all fear is vanished away out of men's hearts. This is true. For being once agreed that the authority of the Pope is good and godly: it followeth, that we must obey his ordinances and laws. For as Kings, to whom God hath committed the civil government in the common weal, not contenting themselves with the holy scriptures, such as concern the state of the common weal (for so much as all things that may happen in divers kinds of common weals, could not be comprised in them) have made other statutes and laws, the which all men are bound to obey by the law of God: so the Bishops of Rome, to whom is committed the rule and government of the universal Church (although you swell and burst at it) do make decrees, not only by word, but also in writing, as the times require: the which all we, that bear the name of Christian men, are bound to observe and keep.  
As for the fear, the which, I said, was taken quite away by you, I do impute it, not only to the decay of the Canon law, but much more to the neglecting and despising of the law of God. For I say, that through the decrees of Luther the fear of God's judgement and everlasting damnation is utterly quenched. I have heard, say you, that very many men have been by the Canons exceedingly enriched: but I have not heard, that many have been instructed in the fear of God. What M. Haddon? Such as follow the study of the civil law, are they all instructed in the fear of God? No truly. And yet you would not have the whole civil law to be burned for that. For the ordinances of Princes are not to be disannulled for the malice and craft of the interpreters: but the lewdness of such as turn all laws to their own gain and advantage were most severely to be restrained. And yet you say, that you do observe the decrees of Popes, because they are not a little profitable. The which thing truly I marvel much at, for two causes. First, because in this point you descent from the most holy father Luther, who, as you say, was sent from heaven. For he burned all the Pope's decrees in such sort, that he left not one of them. Then, because all your trade so dependeth of heaven, that you esteem all wordly things no better worth, but to be cast away.  
Whereas you say, that I do accuse your Doctors, because they have caused a certain unrestreined liberty in such as they teach: I grant I am yet of that opinion, and how true it is, I will declare hereafter.  
You complain afterward, that I mock those your holy men. Your words are these. I would have you to remember, what your great Master of eloquence wrote sometime very wisely: that it is an ungodly costume to dally against the Gods, whether it be done in earnest or in sport. You are to superstitious, M. Haddon, and I see now, that Luther is a holy God with you, and that you pray, that Bucer will be merciful unto you, and that you think, that you must appease with sacrifice the majesty of your Martyr also. For these men do you esteem as Gods: and therefore I look when you will erect altars unto them. For else, what other Gods did I ever jest at? Then by like these are the Gods, of whose displeasure you warn me to beware. But whereas you say, that I do use jesting words against Christ, in that point you follow your masters, which are in the mystery of lying very handsome craftsmen.  
You challenge me to dispute, a thing full unseemly for your person. For you understand not the scriptures, no, Luther himself could not, (being, as he was, altogether blinded in vice and wickedness) discern, what great light was in them. And this is the cause why he is carried to and fro, so diversly, so dowbtfully, and so uncertanly, that to this day no man in the world is able to say for certain: this was his opinion. For at one time he affirmeth, that all standeth in only faith: and he bringeth me in such a faith, as, if it be once received, all good works are put to flight. At an other time being overcome by the very force of truth itself, and advertised by his friends to avoid the envy of men, he seeketh out the good works again. I would you would read over my books of justification: and I judge, you should not need to be to seek in any point, concerning this matter, which you now speak of.  
We believe, say you, the gospel. You do well. But the devils believe also and quake for fear. But what saith the gospel? That there is no danger, say you, of damnation to them, that are graffed in 
Rom, 8. a.  Christ: that live not according to the flesh but according to the spirit. For I will not go far from the very words of the holy scriptures, lest I may seem in some point to deal not uprightly. That seemeth in deed, M. Haddon, to be the property of a perfect lawyer, to maintain the written word of the law, and to go sometimes directly against the meaning of the law. But, I pray you, what words are those, the which you 
Ro. 3. d  might in no wise leave out? S. Paul, say you, after a long and earnest disputation concludeth, that he thought, that we are justified by faith without the works of the law. What S. Paul hath concluded, I know very well: but what you would conclude, I do not yet perfectly understand. We must needs yield, say you: we are not able to discredit the gospel. But yet we must take that withal out of the self same S. Paul: faith that worketh 
Galat. 5. a  by charity. If we do keep these things joined together: you may not separate them, and so reason against an error, which hath none other author besides your own self. By these your words I do conjecture, M. Haddon, that your opinion is, whereas S. Paul saith, that no man is justified by works, and again, that we must keep that faith that worketh by charity: (although these things may seem to disagree the one with the other) yet that we may not in any wise depart from the very words of the gospel. And how so ever the joining together of these things may seem to be a hard matter: yet for so much as S. Paul is the author of it, it were a presumptuous act to go about to separate what S. Paul hath joined.  
But I am of a contrary opinion, that this only argument is sufficient to prove, that S. Paul never spoke these things, because they hung not together. For what thing standeth better together and is more agreeable, than the reasoning and doctrine of S. Paul? And nothing is less agreeable than this: that justice is not given without that faith, that worketh by charity: and, that no man can 
Only faith justifieth not.  be justified by works. Not the hearers of the law, saith S. Paul, but the doers 
Rom. 2. b.  of the law, they shall be justified. They therefore that do the thing, that is commanded in the law, by the authority of S. Paul are just before God. If that be true, what is more contrary to the meaning of S. Paul, then to say, that no man is made just by works? You therefore knit those things together, that cannot be joined. But I would stand in it, and prove by this reason only, if I had none other, that S. Paul would never speak it.  
Whereas you say, that I do fight or contend against an error, it soundeth to my commendation. For what goodlier thing can I do, them to pluck up pestilent opinions by the root?  
But when you bring in upon this, that of the self same error, which I contend against, there is none other author besides mine own self, we had need of Oedipus to expound it. You have a marvelous liking in dark sayings. Heard you it ever reported, that I should say, that the works of holy men were defiled and spotted with sin, and that for this cause no man could attain justice by holy works? This is the error which I do stand against. But you will not once say so, and yet you are so babish, that you can not utter, what you think. But the fambling of your tongue we will let pass, and consider how foully you are overseen in weighty matters.  
You say, that works are not available to justification, and yet, you say, that works are not to be despised, for so much as we have both these opinions grounded upon the authority of S. Paul. The principal devisers and Archbuylders of your new gospel, whom you worship as Gods, of whom you learned these mysteries, went further than so, and said plainly, 
Luther's most damnable doctrine touching Works.  that all the works, the which holy men do, are not only unprofitable, but also unclean and spotted through the contagion of original sin. For they do not believe, that original or engrafted sin, the which we took from the spring, is quite blotted out in the baptism of life: but that it groweth still, and casteth out such a deal of unclean vice, that all the doings of holy men, although they be done by the motion and instinct of the holy Ghost, yea and referred to the glory of Christ, yet they are deadly sins, and deserve of justice the punishment of everlasting damnation, without the great goodness and mercy of Christ. If it be but little civility, as you say, (and as it pleaseth your great lawyer to write also) to judge of a law, unless it be thoroughly weighed and considered: read diligently the books of Luther, Melanchthon, Caluine, and other your learned men, and you shall see, that this was their opinion, or rather that the whole sum of the doctrine, which they professed, stood upon this opinion, that they condemned all works as wicked and sinful.  
You see here an extreme desperation of attaining unto justice. For if no man can be just, but he only that keepeth the law, as S. Paul saith: if not he 
Rom. 2. b. Mat. 7. 6.  that saith Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, as our Lord himself declareth plainly, but he that doth the will of the Father: if justice, as the prophets witness, is a shunning of all vices, and an earnest desire to follow virtue and honesty: if justice consists in cleans of life, in innocencio, in good and seemly ordre of the mind, in holy conversation, in newness of heavenly life, and in the continual exercise of charity: and we be able, neither to keep the commandments of God, neither to forsake vice, neither to follow honesty, neither to do the works of charity, if it be so, that, (will we, nil we) we must needs bear the yoke of sin: by what means in the world shall we be able to assure ourselves of the state of justice, through the grace and mercy of Christ, if Christ hath not yet broken the force of sin in us by the merit of his blood, as your masters say? You see here, after what sort that man, that was (as you say) sent from heaven, hath cut of by his devices all hope of attaining unto justice. But see on the other side, how wittily he hath devised a remedy, and how all the rest have followed him.  
He saith, that no man hath any particular justice through the grace of Christ, but that the justice of Christ himself is applied to all believers by faith, in such sort, that the justice of Christ is no less accounted and esteemed in every faithful man (be he never so wicked) then if it were that man's own justice, that stayeth upon faith only. He saith therefore, that it cometh to pass through this faith, by the which every Christian man assureth himself that he is in the favour of God, that the justice of Christ is imputed to be the justice of that man, that believeth. You have here the law of Luther, so much as concerneth this present place, thoroughly scanned, so that you can not justly complain of any wrong done unto Luther.  
Now consider you on the other side, what a marvelous easy way he hath devised to attain unto justice. For to whom shall it not be a very easy matter (if he will believe Luther) to say thus with himself? This gear goeth gaily well with me. I am in high favour with God for my faiths sake. It is so, that the justice of Christ is become mine own justice. I am therefore as just as Paul, as Peter, yea 〈◊〉 the most blessed mother of God herself: for so much as no man hath the commendation of any particular justice through the grace of Christ: but there is one only justice applied indifferently to all such as keep the faith: the which because it can not be higher or lower, greater or lesser, it followeth, that I am so just myself (although there remain sin in me) as he that is most just.  
You see now, how by the diligence of this excellent fellow, all fear is put to flight, presumption set on tip toe, boldhardinesse confirmed in her full strength and force. For so much as therefore a man can not be earnestly provoked to do any virtuous act, being either in extreme despair or else in extreme presumption: and Luther hath in part cut of all hope of justice, and in part hath brought his disciples into a most presumptuous affiance of attaining unto it, by devising an other justice that was never heard of before: is it not evident, although to eschew envy he spoke sometimes many things concerning the works of justice, that he quenched all love and desire of well doing? For, I pray you, by what means will you encourage a faint man to do any honest thing, if he have learned before of some grave person, that such as endeavour themselves to do any virtuous act, do but lose their labour?  
Again, how will you drive the fear of everlasting damnation into them, that are altogether careless, and presume so much of their own justice, that they believe, that no man doth pass them in any excellency of justice? Wherefore no man in the world will ever bend himself to do holy works (if he hearken to the Doctrine of Luther) for so much as it is impossible, that any man, being either in extreme despair of honesty, or else in extreme presumption of salvation, should earnestly endeavour himself to follow godliness.  
But, you will say, that it may be, that Luther did exhort his country men to good works in his Books and sermons. I know that well. So did Epicure himself, when he had with Decrees taken away all virtue, yet would he dispute now and then of virtue very notably. I consider not, what the light fellow saith sometime, either through the inclination of nature, or else for fear of envy: but I see, what is most agreeable to his decrees and doctrine. This is most undoubtedly true that, when things are either utterly despaired, or certainly assured, there is no man, that will take any great pains in following of virtue. Therefore, for so much as Luther hath showed himself to be the author both of this extreme desperation, as also of that, extreme presumption: who doth not see, that, by him, all good and godly works hath been quite overthrown? Wherefore this was in him a great fault, a cruel deed, a shameless act, a wicked crime, an intolerable villainy: but yet was that other much more heinous and detestable, that he would wrest the godly and wise saying of S. Paul after his own pleasure, and abuse the testimony of the holy Apostle to confirm his shameless opinion and doctrine.  
But let us now see, how you will make Luther the defacer of all virtue, labour, diligence, and industry: to agree with S. Paul, the high Schoolmaster of all holiness, religion and virtue? S. Paul, say you, saith, that there is nothing available to salvation, besides faith that worketh by charity. The self same Paul saith, that no man is justified by works. It is therefore evident, say you, that these two points are joined together.  
But I say on the other side, that, for so much as these things do disagree exceedingly the one from the other, it is impossible, that ever S. Paul should join them together. But that it may be fain how il your masters understand S. Paul: it is to be considered, what his meaning was, what he went about, what intention and purpose he had, as in all his Epistles, so especially in this, which he wrote to the Romans, out of the which you have taken these testimonies corruptly understood.  

A sound and catholic doctrine touching works.  What was then the purpose of S. Paul in this Epistle? Doubtless this, to withdraw men from all affiance in worldly things to the faith of Christ.  
He teacheth therefore, that there was no sure stay of salvation, neither in nature, neither in the ordinances of the old Law. For it was neither nature, neither the law, that took away iniquity, and brought in justice, in the which only standeth our salvation and honour. For only justice procureth the favour of God towards mankind.  
And first that nature of itself holpp nothing towards justice, he proveth by this argument: because all men, which stayed upon nature only, although they were endued with excellent wit, yet they were spotted with iniquity; with unclean lusts, malice, covetousness, dishonesty of life, cruelty, and with other vices unseemly to be named. As though he should say thus. If the excellency of nature, if the sharpness of wit, if the force of the mind and reason had helped any thing towards justice: then had the Gentiles, which excelled in nature, in wie, and in reason, been well appointed and furnished for all helps and states of justice. But the brightness of justice shone not amongst them: (for they were full of iniquity and vices without number) wherefore the excellency of nature holp them nothing to live justly.  
Then turning himself to the jews, he urgeth the self same argument, but more earnestly and with greater force. For he had entered into a most earnest conflict with the jews, as touching the ceremonies of the old Law: the which the jews, thought necessary to keep still, believing that the souls were purged by them. Against whom S. Paul disputeth, declaring that all the ordinances of the Law, which were but only shadows of justice, vanished away at the coming of the true and perfect justice: and that such as referred the cause of justice unto those shadows, appaired the honour of Christ. For they disinherited the power and merit of Christ. And therefore writing unto 
Gala. 5. a.  the Galathians, he saith. If you be circu●cided, Christ shall do you no good. In like manner writing to the Hebrews, he saith, that the Law● 
Hebr. 7. c.  brought nothing to perfection, but that it stirred up men with shadows only and Images to the hope of the salvation to come. And those ceremonies and sacrifices ordained by the law, the which in this place and in the epistle to the Galathians, he termeth the works of the Law, writing to the Hebrews, he calleth them the justices of the flesh. S. Paul therefore speaketh 
Hebr. 9 6.  of this part of the Law, which consists in shadows of justice, which containeth the cleansing of the body, and reacheth not unto the soul, when he saith, that no man is justified by the works of the Law. This was the meaning of S. Paul, and the conclusion of that so long and earnest disputation, which you speak of. As though he would say thus. If Circumcision, if the sprinkling of ashes, if the offering up of brute beasts, if the other cleansinges of the Law did make men just, it should follow, that all the jews which observed and kept orderly the holy ceremonies of the Law, attesned unto justice. But it is evident, that all such jews as leaned and trusted unto the law only, were naughty men, unclean livers, backbiters, murderers, and wicked persons. Wherefore they received not the fruit of justice by the law. And so it remaineth, that no man is justified by the works of the law.  
If you have any wit at all, this reason concluding so aptly may teach you, what works S. Paul meant, when he said, that no man is justified by the works of the law. For otherwise what could any man have said more unaptly, worse hanging together, and less to the purpose? If S. Paul had said, that the jews had excelled in clean living, in godliness and innocenty, and yet that such virtuous deeds had helped nothing towards justice: if he had upon these things concluded, that they were not justified by the works of the law: you might well have guessed, that by the works of the law, he had understood the deeds of virtue and godliness. But S. Paul never spoke any such word. No, he declareth plainly by the testimony of the law itself, that such as bestowed much diligence and labour about the ordinances of the law, were very naugh ty and wicked men: whereupon he concludeth, 
Works of the law do not justify.  that the works of the law did not justify. What then? Think you that S. Paul doth conclude his argument upon things that are not proved and agreed upon, as you do? If you presume to say so, then shall you falsely charge the wisdom of the holy man with the crime of rashness and folly. The which thing how far it is from S. Paul, is well known to all such as study his writings with a pure intention. For what can be devised more witty and better applied, fuller of wisdom and more earnestly indited, than the reasoning and style of S. Paul? His Arguments are all so wellinked within themselves the one dependeth of an other so aptly, they are knit together so finely, the second cometh in upon the first, the last answereth unto the middelmost so necessarily, he chaineth all the whole discourse in one, with such an excellent order and cunning, that it is not possible to find any one point in all his talk, that agreeth not wonderfully well with his meaning expressed in any other place before. It is therefore gathered by the reason itself of S. Paul, (which concludeth very aptly) what works of the Law those are, by the which, he saith, no man is made just. They are those works, the which S. Paul plucketh at evermore in his disputation, against the which he contendeth most earnestly, from the afsiance of the which he endeavoureth to withdraw the jews: for the cause of the which he was cruelly assaulted of the jews, and oftentimes put in great peril of his life.  
Now if you desire to know, wherefore these sacrifices of the Law, are called the works of the law: how those works also, which are done by the strength of reason only, (unto the which men lean and trust to much, and therefore require against all reason a reward for them, not according to grace, but of duty) are to be accounted amongst the works of the Law: how the works of godliness, charity, humanity and virtue are to be referred unto the power and holiness of faith: in how great blindness they are, the which not understanding these places of S. Paul, and wresting them from their true meaning, abuse them to prove, that the works of holy men are not only unprofitable, but also wicked: I have declared these things plainly enough in my books written of justice, which are now abroad: and therefore I think it not needful to repeat them again in this place. I do not therefore pull in sunder such things as are joined together by reason: but the things, that are disagreeable and contrary the one to the other, I can no●●bide to see them huddled up together without reason. For, seeing that S. Paul doth most earnestly exhort us to the love of virtue, innocency and charity: saying, that every man shallbe rewarded according to his works: seeing that he affirmeth, that all such as are joined unto Christ, are washed and cleansed of all uncleanness of sin, and are become holy: yea and that they are for cleanness of life and brightness of virtue comparable to the stars: what thing in the world could have been spoken more contrary to this saying, so often and so constantly repeated, then to affirm, that such, as the Apostle reporteth to be clean, holy, clear, most excellently beautified with the brightness of heavenvly virtues, are spotted with sins, and that their works are not only nothing available towards the heap and perfection of justice, but also that they are unclean, sinful, and distained with the contagious infection of our corrupted nature?  

Rom. 8. a.  But let us consider the place of S. Paul itself, which you allege. S. Paul, say you, waranteth, that there is no danger of damnation in such as are engrafted in Christ. But we take that withal, that followeth in the same place: such as live not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit. You do well to take in that withal. But let us see▪ what are they, that walk, as S. Paul saith, according to the flesh? Doubtless they are those, which are, as S. Paul 
Gal. 5. c.  writing to the Galathians saith, corrupted and defiled with adultery, with the filthy pleasure of the body, with uncleanness of life, with cursed superstition, with hatred, with making debate and strife between men, with stirring up troubles and discord, with pestilent sects, with envy, murder and cruelty, with drunkenness, and gluttony, with these and other the like vices, of the which saith the Apostle, I tell you now, as I have also told you before, that who soever doth such things, shall never possess the inheritance of God. He excepteth no man, he said not, unless they have faith: for it is like that this light of the new Gospel had not yet shined in his eyes. And what they are, that live according to the Spirit, the Apostle declarerh, saying, that they are such, is enjoy the most sweet and plesaune fruit of the Spirit. Now the fruit of the spirit, as he saith, is charity, gladness, peace, constancy in virtue, gentleness, bowntifulnes, faith (not meaning that slack faith, but such a faith, as is joined with obedience) meekness, continency, and other the like commendable virtues, against the which no man can proceed by law. And yet a man might do it, in case they were spotted and defiled with any sin. S. Paul therefore doth in no wise promise the inheritance of the everlasting kingdom to them that lean to the only faith of Luther: but to suches as do good works, and direct all the doings of their life to the glory of Christ.  
Here will you cry out again, and protest the faith of Gods and men, that this is a notable slander, and not to be borne: and that you did not put such affiance in only Faith, but that you determined withal, that good works were also necessary unto salvation. I will not as now dispute, how far from all reason it is, to put any hope or affiance of salvation in a thing, that is unclean and wicked. And therefore, if all works, as Luther saith, are defiled with sin: then are they not to be wrought diligently, but to be neglected and despised. But omitting this matter, we will consider, how these works, be they never so evil, yet must they needs be had of you: (for this point have I searched out with much diligence.) Because, say they, they follow faith of necessity: not for that, that works do make the way unto salvation, (for as of themselves they came not into judgement) but because there is in them a certain fruit of Faith. For as a tree of itself bringeth forth fruit by the strength of nature, so doth faith of necessity bring forth works. These two points of doctrine do your masters teach: butboth the one and the other is false.  
For first of all, the works themselves do deserve either salvation or damnation: and the works shallbe weighed by themselves in the balance of God's judgement. 
Psal. 61. d.  Otherwise David would never have said, that God will ●ender unto every man 
Ro. 2. b.  according to his works: S Paul would never have said, that God will reward every man according to the quality of his work good or ill: he would never have stayed men with that threat, that 
2. Cor. 5. b  we must all stand before the judgement seat of Christ▪ to make account every 
Ro. 14. d.  man, of what so ever good or evil he hath cmonitted in this life: and that every man's own works shallbe most exactly tried: to make short (for so much as the testimonies, that may be alleged, are infinite) the most holy judge himself would never have said, that such as have done well, shall go into life everlasting, 
Mat. 25. d  and such as have done evil, into everlasting fire.  
Then that other point is also false, that good works do necessarily arise out of Luther's faith. I grant you, that good works do follow my faith, but not yours, M. Haddon, if you believe 
Ro. 10. c.  Luther. How so say you? Because faith cometh by hearsay, and hearsay cometh by the word of Christ. For so much 
The faith of the church is fru●ful.  therefore as my faith, that is to say, the faith of the holy Church is grounded upon the words of Christ, and Christ himself saith, that all such as do not repent, shall be condemned: that saith and credit, which I give to the words of Christ, causeth me to do penance. 
Io▪ 15. b.  Again when our Lord saith: 〈◊〉 shallbe my friends, if you will do th● things, that I command you to do if I believe the words of Christ, and desire earnestly to be received into his friendship: I will endeavour myself to the uttermost of my power, to do such things as are by him commanded. And whereas Christ telleth us before, that not he that calleth him Lord, 
Mat. 7. 6.  shall come to have the possession of the kingdom of heaven, but he that ordereth all his works according to the will of the everlasting Father: If my faith be not faint, if it be lively and strong and inflamed with the desire of that kingdom: I am stirred up by this faith to direct all my doings according to the will of God. See you not now, after what sort this faith containeth holy works within her womb, which are engendered of the fruictefulnes of her.?  
Now let us see the faith of Luther, whether it be able to bring forth any 
Luther's faith fruitless.  fruit, that is quick. No without doubt. First of all, because all works as he saith, seem they never so holy, are distained with sin. And no man maketh any account or estimation of a thing that is unclean and spotted with sin. Moreover because (as he maintaineth) the force and strength of inordinate lust is so great, that he thinketh it impossible to withstand it by any means in the world. Seeing then it is impossible for any man to endeavour himself to do any good works, unless he do first destroy the kingdom of sin: and the kingdom of sin can not possibly be destroyed, if it be true that Luther saith: it remaineth, that no man can possibly do any holy works. For who is so mad, that he will bestow his labour in any thing in vain and without fruit? Last of all because Luther hath determined such a kind of justice, as needeth not the help of any doing or work. For if I persuade myself, that the justice of Christ is applied unto me by faith, no less then if it were mine own justice: and that I have attained unto that most high and perfect justice of Christ, although I live and continue in sin: with what desire, care, or hoofulnes should I be pricked forward to do any good work? forsomuch therefore as Luther both despiseth holy works, and cutteth of all hope of honesty and holiness: and by this faith, which he hath devised, taketh away all fear of punishment: is it not evident, that he is the overthrower of holy works, the destroyer of honesty and godliness? although he pretended sometime to stir up his disciples to the love of virtue? Wherefore it is manifestly seen, that this man of God, whom you commend above the heavens, what with bringing good works into contempt, and what with causing men to despair of honesty, and by teaching a vain affiance in his newly devised justice, hath quite taken away all desire of doing and working.  
Let us now come to your other complaint, in the which you say, that I make no end of babbling, while I lament the unsensibleness of Luther, which tied up the will of man with necessity of destiny. Truly, say you, I am not wont to be moved with anger, and yet now I can hold myself no longer. It is my great fault, M. Haddon, that I have by this my babbling as you term it, caused you (being so gentle and soft by nature as you are) to rage's like a mad man. Well let us then hear the talk of this fellow which is justly provoked to play the bedlam. What say you sir?  
This slander, say you, is not only blockish and ignorant, but also blasphemous: and such, as the very stones themselves, which you speak of, if they could speak, would not turn it against our men. I know, M. Haddon, that that place of rhetoric is well applied to this vehement kind of speech, which you now use. And therefore I look, when you will bring in those stones, and make them to speak. You say afterward.  
But have you an eye unto the Scriptures a little while, and repent you. Truly I have a diligent eye unto them: but I have not as yet gone to school with doctor Walter. Now therefore I am attentive, if I may, by your good instructions come to a clearer understanding of the secrets of God. I would ye would utter unto us this wonderful stuff of your high wisdom. Well: what say you then?  

Predestination.  God the Father hath chosen us in Christ, before the foundations of the world were laid, to the end that we should be holy and unreprovable before him. How know you, M. Walter, I pray you, that you are one of the chosen? Again which be they, that are holy and unreprovable before God? doubtless they are such, as are void of all sin. But by Luther's doctrine, you can not be without sin. For he saith, that sin is not all put out, but that a certain steime of vice breaketh out of it, as it were out of a burning furnace, the which devoureth and consumeth all things round about it: whereupon it followeth, that no man is unreprovable. But if you peradventure will say, that you speak not of yourself, but of all mankind: if no man in the world be delivered from all sin (as Luther teacheth) then doth it follow, that no man can be unreprovable.  
You hear, say you, the election or choice of God out of the gospel, the which you so much detest in your talk: and you hear the time also. Do I detest the election of God? With what face dare you say so? In what place? in what words? before whom? who is your witness? who was made privy? in which of all my writings can you convince me to have spoken any such word? Have you such a pleasure, to babble out, what so ever cometh upon your tongues end?  
Neither is this necessity of God's election say you, an occasion why we should yield ourselves wholly to fellow the pleasures of the body and unclean vices (as it pleaseth you full ungodly to sport) but that we should be holy and unreprovable before God through charity: as it is declared by the express words of the gospel. Although I understand you not very well, yet I think you make with me. For I say the very same thing, that we are not compelled by any necessity to do evil: for so much as God hath given us (as it is manifestly proved by many places of the 
Free Wil  Scripture) a free choice of life and death. Wherefore we are free, and not tied with any fatal necessity.  
But here again forgetting what you said before, you allege certain places out of S. Paul, by the which as I imagine, you intend to take from us our freedom of will.  

Phil. 2. b.  It is God, say you, that worketh in us both to will and to do. S. Paul in these words hath tied up our will, and restrained our power. Neither did S. Paul ever think it, neither did your masters understand the meaning of S. Paul. Much less is it to be thought that you, being far inferior to them, should be able to attain to the Apostles meaning in this matter. We grant this to be true, that our thoughts and works (such as are well begun and ended) ought to be referred unto god, by whose power they are done. For except God had called me back, when I ramno into all mischief: except he had advertised me by the instinct of his spirit, that I should not cast myself headlong into everlasting thraldom: except he had with his wholesome grace and sure aid so strengthened me, that I might be able to do the godly work which he commanded me to do: I could neither have done, neither yet have thought any good thing: but what so ever study or diligence I had employed either in devising, or else in doing any good work, it had been all in vain. Yet this much we say, that we may, not yield our assent to the inspiration of God, that we may, not regard his liberality, that we may, refuse his gentle offer, yea and lose, through sin and wickedness, the 
Apo●. 3. d.  grace, that is already goten. I, saith our Lord, do stand at the door and knock. He saith not, I do break open the doors, or I do pull them out of the hinges, or I do break in by violence: but only, I do knock▪ that is to say, I do warn: I do declare the peril that may ensue: I do show the hope of salvation: I do promise help: and I do allure men unto me by benefits. Yet you say.  
What then? Is there no difference between us and a stone? He must needs be more unsensible than a stone, that would gather after that sort. As though I had gathered this, M. Waulter, out of the sober meaning of S. Paul, and not out of the drunken dreaming of Luther: as it shall appear hereafter.  
The self same S. Paul, say you, calleth us the coadiutours of God, and commandeth us to work our salvation in fear and trembling. See you not then, by the very words of S. Paul, that the freedom of will is builded upon his authority, the which Luther goeth about to overthrow? For wherefore should he have said, that we are the coadiutours of God, if a man could do nothing towards the work, that God worketh in us? Wherefore should he have warned us to work our salvation, if it were not in our power to do it? But you, even as in that joining of faith that worketh by charity, and of works that are unprofitable, laboured in vain to glue together by the testimony of S. Paul such things, as can not possibly be joined: in like manner you would bring to pass, by this your singular wit, the which we simple idiots can not reach unto, that freedom and bondage should be knit together with a most fast knot of friendship, and that by the sayings and meaning of S. Paul. And therefore at one time you allege certain places of S. Paul, that maketh for freedom: at an other time you bring other testimonies, the which, as you think, confirmeth bondage. But I might prove by this argument alone, that you could never so much as suspect, what great wisdom was in S. Paul: (as in whose heart rested the spirit of Christ) because you labour to prove, that he spoke such things, as are very contrary.  
And yet you say, that I do abhor the Gospel. In deed I do abhor Luther's Gospel: and when I name Luther, I mean Melanchthon also, and Bucer and Caluine, and the rest of your Bassas. For although they be divers channels of waters, yet came they all out of one fountain. But whereas you abuse the testimonies of S. Paul to avouch your ungodliness, me thinketh it is a thing not to be borne. You say afterward.  
You shall know by three words of S. Paul. What shall I know? I am able to 
Philip. 4. c  do all things in Christ, which strengtheneth me. And S. Augustine comprised the self same sentence in other words very finely: God, saith he, crowneth his own works in us. Very well. But to what purpose bring you these things? Be we of them, think you, that take part with Pelagius? Did we ever say, that we could do any good and commendable work by our own strength and diligence? No truly. And yet you in this place, as though you had won the field, begin to vaunt yourself without all modesty, and say.  
What is it? See you not how the providence of God is fortified by the authority of the holy scriptures? And yet you understand, that it is not the mother of sin, but the nurse of all virtue. O M. Haddon, what ague fit is this that holdeth you? What damned spirits are these that vex you? What plagues of sin are these that follow you up and down? Where have you heard or read, that I do deny the providence of God, or that I do affirm, that out of it there should arise any evil in the world? Is this no fury? Is this no madness? Is this no impudency? You could never gather any such thing out of my writings: unless you think perhaps, that the providence of God can not stand by any means, except the freedom of man's will be taken quite away. If you think so, you are worse than mad. If you think not so, and yet will charge me falsely withal: you are passed all shame. And yet you say.  
But let us go unto the fountains themselves, out of the which although there flow most sweet honey, yet hath your most corrupted mind sucked out of them very pestilent poison▪ O M. Waulter, how much it easeth your stomach, to vomit out this railing poison, with the which you are glotted? S. Paul writing to the Galathians said: would 
Gala. 5. b.  God they might be cut of that trouble you. In like manner do I pray unto Christ my God, the author and giver of uncorrupted and upright life: that all such as come to handle the holy scriptures, with an unclean mind, with fowl eyes, with an ungodly intent, may at the length repent them selves: or else, if they will not, that they may be put to most sharp punishment and horrible death, raither then to bring so much mischief into the common weal of the Church.  
In this place, (good Christ) what a stir you keep? how wonderfully you lay about you? how you vaunt yourself in words like a conqueror? You do, in your own conceit, not only beat back the horns, as you said before, but also overthrow and discomfit a whole army. You bring divers places of S. Paul, which are nothing necessary, to prove that there is a providence. After that you lay out against me with open mowth, as though I should conclude that by the providence of God, if there were any, a man were bereft of his senses. The which is in deed a very shameless lie. For you never read any such word in my oration. Neither doth it follow, that a man should be like a block, of god's providence, but of Luther's madness, by the which, contrary to god's providence, he taketh away the freedom of the will. But you peradventure think, that the lewdness of Luther is so joined with this providence, that who so ever speaketh earnestly against Luther's madness, he must needs appair God's providence. But I am of a contrary mind, that who so ever followeth the lewdness of Luther, doth so much as in him lieth, overthrow the providence of God.  
But what meaneth this? Wherefore declare you not in plain words, what you would have? wherefore use you such dark parables? wherefore forsake you the name of babylon bondage, and take up violentli the name of providence? Luther said, that free will was either a thing of a title only, or else a title without a thing. He saith, that man doth suffer, and not do: that he is drawn, and doth not deliberate: that he is only an instrument, the which God turneth, as him listeth: that God driveth him forward and pulleth him backward as his pleasure is: and that he useth him as a saw or a hatchet: and that man hath no power or strength in the world to do either good or evil. But he correcteth himself afterward in this manner. I did ill, saith he, to say that free will before grace is a thing of a title only: I ought rather to have said simply, that free will is a feigned devise in things, or else a title without a thing. For so much as it is in no man's power once to think any good or evil (as it is in the article of Wicleffe condemned at Constance) but all things do come to pass of a mere and absolute necessity. He amplifieth these things afterwards with many words, and straingeth himself very sore, to prove that the mind is always tied, the will bound, the power to do taken away, yea in such sort, that we can not possibly not only do, but also not so much as think upon any thing good or bad. These things taught Melanchthon also, and so did Caluine with great copy of words, and other, whom I here omit. To be short, the some of this doctrine was, that there is no difference between us and any other working tool. These are the things, which your Doctors teach openly.  
But I faith, (and all good men, all holy men, all men endued with godliness and virtue avouch my saying to be true) that to teach this your doctrine is a heinous offence, a desperate boldness, a detestable outrage, a coursed act. For grant me this doctrine to be true, and I say, that laws are taken quite away, counsels put to silence, honest crafts overthrown, learning defaced, civil government disordered, the determination of right and wrong confounded. I say moreover (for it followeth of necessity) that man is bereft of his senses, spoiled of counsel, deprived of reason, and brought to that pass, that there is no difference between him and a stone cast out of the hand. I say also, that the warnings of the law of God, the commandments, counsels, exhortations, and threatening, the rewards assigned unto virtue, and the punishments appointed for sin and wickedness, were to no purpose enregestred in the holy scriptures for the perpetual remembrance of them. All these inconveniences follow upon the doctrine of Luther necessarily. There followeth also an other inconvenience, the which, (to conceive it only in heart) is the most horrible blasphemy, that ever could be spoken or imagined, that God the most holy and upright judge, in whom no iniquity can possibly rest, doth uniuslis punish that offence, of the which himself was (as Luther saith) a persuader, a forcible mover, yea the doer. For even as, when a murder is committed, not the sword, but he that committed the murder with the sword is arained: so, right and reason would, that not I, which was forced to do a mischief by a certain fatal violence, the which I could not withstand, but he that used such forcible means towards me, should bear the blame of it. I say therefore, that this point, out of the which followeth so many and such horrible monsters, is so heinous and wicked, that if all the rest were gathered together, in comparison of this, they might seem to be very light. For it doth both overthrow quite the society and good order amongst men: and it doth falsely charge that our most holy Lord and bowntiful father with the crime of unjustice and cruelty. This therefore do I say, judge, define, determine, taught by infinite testimonies of the holy scripture, moved thereunto by the monuments of all holy men that ever wrote either of old time or in our days, instructed by many disputations of the most excellent philosophers, endued also with upright reason, the which was wont to be called the law of nature and God: that this absolute or fatale necessity, with the which Luther tied up all the doings and thoughts of men, without exception, can neither stand, nor enter into the mind of any reasonable man: and that, who so ever devised it first, was of all men, that ever lived upon the earth, most vile and wicked.  
This is that, which I said. This I would have you to confute, and to declare, either that Luther never spoke it, or else if he did, to prove that he did it upon good consideration. The which thing of like you do not (peradventure for fear of envy) and therefore you shift yourself into a disputation of God's election, and you go about to prove by the testimony of S. Paul, that there is a providence: as though I had disputed against the providence of God, and not against the madness of Luther. Can any man in the world devise a more fond or foolish order of disputation and confutation, than this is?  
You are over bold and rash to abuse the epistle of S. Paul to the Romans, being, as you are, altogether ignorant in it. And yet, as though you had with this your leadden sword killed God have mercy on his soul, when you had brought in that example out of S. Paul of the children that were yet unborn, you ran upon me like a mad man. This is the language, that you used.  
What say you good sir? Behold the election once again, and that according to the purpose of God. Behold the time of the election which was, before the children were borne. What shall we then say? that there is any unjustice in God? S. Paul detesteth that saying, but Jerome Osorius dowbteth not to avouch it. O M. Haddon, what madness is this that vexeth you? What say you? What think you? What a shameless lust of lying is this? When said I so? in what words? Show the place: reprove me by witnesses: convince me by good proof. Before you do this why rage you? Why take you on like a mad man? Think you, that Luther, that mad fellow and filthy varlet, and the heavenly doctrine of S. Paul are so near joined together, that who so ever is against Luther, must needs be against the most holy ordinances of S. Paul also? Oh (say you) it is the voice 
Rom. 9 c.  of God to Moses. I will have mercy on whom so ever I have mercy, and I will have compassion, on whom so ever I have compassion. S. Paul bringeth in upon this: that it is not in him that will, neither in him that runneth, but in God that taketh mercy. After this you recite the example of Pharaoh, but you show not plainly, to what end you allege it. And then, as though you had already declared by the testimony of S. Paul, that the freedom of man's will was taken away, you conclude after this sort.  
What saith Jerome Osorius? For sooth he saith: if manes reason be tied up, if freedom of deliberation be taken away, if the will be settered with everlasting bands: that it must needs follow, that man is altogether bereft of his judgement and senses, that there is no difference between him and a stone, yea that God is made to be the author of evil.  
And that it standeth not with reason, that we should be punished, for that offence, which we committed, not with our will. That is true, M. Haddon, neither have you confuted my arguments, neither have you brought any testimony of S. Paul, the which might cause me to change my mind. And yet as though you had determined the matter all at pleasure, you rouse yourself, and entering into a more earnest vain of speech, you bring those words, that follow, out of the innermost corner of your cunning. You say thus.  
Do I make any thing of myself? do I alter or change any thing? do you not acknowledge your own words, which are partly false, and partly wicked? These things while you declaimed them like a fine Rhetorician, and vaunted yourself somewhat insolently with a certain lusty kind of talk: you make that same glistering gloss of words to shine a great deal the brighter by putting in (as your manner is) a taunt or reproach. Your words are these.  
Of like you are that proud reasoner, whose haughtiness S. Paul rebuketh very sharply. Will you being an earthen vessel, made of dirt and clay, demand of the potter, to what use he hath so made you? These and the like taunts you cast out against me, and you warn me withal, that I do not overthrow, through this my intolerable pride, such as lean upon the providence of God. These are the things, which you utter in exceeding great choler.  
O goodly golden vessel, made by the excellent workmanship of Bucer, I pray you disdain not the poor earthen vessels: for it is in them, to become golden vessels. In a great house, saith S. Paul, there are vessels, not only of gold and silver, but also of wood 
2. Tim. 2. c  and earth. And some are made for honour, and some for reproach. If any man therefore will purge himself from these, he shallbe a vessel for honour, made holy and meet for our Lord, and prepared to all good work. You see how S. Paul declareth, that it is a very easy matter for us, if we will, to be changed out of wooden and earthen vessels, into vessels of gold and silver. And by what means this thing may be brought to pass, he declareth plainly, when he saith: If he will purge himself from these. From whom? From them doubtless, which as he said a little before, had overthrown the faith of certain men. But that you may understand, how ill your masters have expounded those testimonies of S. Paul, which you have huddled up together, I think it necessary to set out at large the meaning of S. Paul. The which thing, that it may the better be done, it is to be considered, to what end S. Paul brought all those arguments.  

A learned exposition of S. Paul's Words.  When he had therefore described in most ample manner the blissful state of those men, the which despising the pride of man's nature, and forsaking the ordinances of the law, which was now disannulled, betook themselves wholly to the service of Christ: yea and so gave themselves thereunto, that they walked, not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit: that is to say: they put away all filthiness of unclean life and naughtiness, they cut of the very strings of carnality, and followed the works of virtue, godliness, and justice with an earnest desire: when he recorded after this sort in his mind the graces and gifts, with the which the minds of those men were adorned and beautified, that were received into the protection of Christ, and ordered by the guydaunce of the holy ghost: he rejoiced incredibly. But the greater this joy was, the more grievously did he sorrow at the remembrance of the most bitter chance and fall of his own country men, which had for their crewel treachery and horrible blindness of heart lost such great richesse. But for so much as many men took occasion by this fall of the jews, to appair the estimation of God's truth and faithfulness: saying, that it could not stand with the constancy of God's truth, that that nation, which was fostered in great expectation of liberty and felicity, which was called by Gods own promises to the hope of the heavenly and everlasting kingdom, shoule be turned out of all good things, and left in most horrible darkness: and that it might be gathered by this, that either the light was not yet brought into the world by Christ, or that God was not sure of his promise: for so much therefore as certain rash and undiscrete fellows using these arguments went about thereby most unworthily and slanderously to distain the glory of God: S. Paul disputeth earnestly for the glory of God, and proveth by very good and grounded reasons, that God was sure of his word, and that he had performed all such things, as were promised, abundantly. And so much doth he signify, when he saith. Not, that the word of God is fallen. Now the 
Rom. 9 b.  prouse of this defence he taketh out of sour places.  
The first place is the description of a true Israelite, to th' intent that, when it was understood, that the Gentiles gathered together unto Christ were numbered in the stock of Israel, it might appear, that God had in their salvation and honour exceedingly well fulfilled his promises.  
The second place was that, in the which he declared, that main, even of them that came of the very stock of Israel, were saved. For in that great shipwreck, certain remnants escaped through faith, out of that most cruel tempest and waves of infidelity.  
In the third place he teacheth, that there was no stay in god, but that all the jews might have come to salvation. For God had his treasures and richesses always in readiness to bestow them, and alured them with often calling upon them to repair towards him, and to receive the fruit of his bountifulness: but they being through the assiaunce of their law brought into a pride, and through pride into very madness, with heart's unkind and obstinately bend to live in sin, refused the liberality and gentle calling of God.  

Rom. 11. c.  Last of all he foretelleth, that the time shall come, when the full multitude of the gentiles are come in, that all Israel shallbe saved. And with these arguments, (which he handleth at large) the Apostle declareth very plainly, how fast and sure God hath always continued in his faithful promise. Of the which we will touch those points only, that appertain to this present disputation.  
First therefore he joineth the description of a true Israelite with the declaration of equity and justice: and declareth, that the nobility of a true Israelit consisteth, not in the community of blood, but in the propagation of faith: and that he is the true son of Abraham, that is borne according to the promise of God, the which faith beholdeth: and not he that is borne according to the flesh, in the which earthy men do glory. Not they, saith S. Paul, 
Rom. 9 c.  that are the sons of the flesh, but they 
Gen. 18. b.  that are the sons of promise, are counted in the seed. And this is a word of promise: I will come about this time, and Sara shall have a son.  
But lest it might be said, that Isaac was therefore preferred before Ishmael, because he was begotten of a free mother, he bringeth in like manner an other example of two twins. For jacob and Esau were begotten and borne both of one father, of one Mother, and in one hour: and yet was jacob placed in the inheritance of his Father, out of the which Esau was cast by the providence 〈…〉 of God. If you will respect 〈…〉 of their birth, it 〈…〉 Esau should have benn● 〈◊〉 because he came first into the world. If you consider the merits of works, it was determined in God's secret counsel, before they were borne, and before they had done any thing good or evil, that jacob should have the pre-eminence. S. Paul setting this similitude before our eyes, confirmeth, that this nobility of Israel is to be ascribed, neither to any stock of man, neither to ancestry, neither to any merit going before: but to the grace of God, the which according to election goeth before all merits of virtue and godliness. For jacob represented such, as stay themselves upon faith, and look for the grace and mercy of God: but Esau resembled them, the which have no respect unto the grace of God, but are puffed 〈◊〉 with an affiance, which they ●aue 〈…〉 works.  
〈…〉 lesson therefore we gather out 
●sounde and Cath● like conclusion.  〈…〉 place of S. Paul: that it is not 〈…〉 stock on pedigree of man, nor work▪ nor the Law, that maketh ●ru● Israelites, but the election, calling, and grace of God.  
But let us see. This so notable a mercy of God, which is bestowed upon us without any desert or merit of ours, is it given without any choice? No truly. For than were there chance and unadvisedness in the judgement of God, the which no man can once think without great offence. S. Paul therefore to put away that damnable opinion, saith. To the end that the determination 
Rom. 9 c.  of God might stand according to election: it was said not by corks, but by the caller, that the elder should serve the younger.  

Election.  〈…〉 word Election, 〈…〉 odds or difference 〈…〉 with 〈…〉 that there was somewhat in the thing chosen, which was not in the thing refused. For the purpose of God is a prevented judgement, in the which God according to election and foreknowledge of things, which he seeth shall come to pass, some he appointeth mercifully unto glory, and other he adjudgeth to everlasting damnation. Neither is the wisdom of God, which comprehendeth in his endless knowledge all things, that hath been, that are now, or shallbe hereafter, compelled to look for the event of things, when he will give judgement.  
What was that then, which God chose before? was it any work, or merit that was worthy of the grace of God? No truly. For, if it were so, grace were no grace. It is certain, that through the mere mercy of God all only, we were delivered from the darkness of sin, and set in the possession of justice. For he was nothing in our debt. But rather for the hatred towards the law of God engrafted in the nature of the body (which was after sin made subject unto the tyranny of inordinate lust) we were all most worthy of everlasting punishment.  
Moreover although that most high and everlasting bounty would, as S. Paul saith, that all men should be saved: 
1. Tim. 2. a  yet the order of justice will not bear, that such as unkindly refuse the benefits of God, and continue in that wickedness to the end, should receive them. They therefore are most justly excluded from the benefits of God, which are at defiance with the bounty of God, and will not in any wise be received into his favour. Now whereas God knew before the beginnings of the world, that it should come thus to pass, of his mercy he chose them, which he saw would not at the end stubbornly refuse his so great benefits. And thus it cometh to pass, that some are by his just judgement refused, and other are by his great mercy called to enjoy his everlasting riches.  
But you will say peradventure: what Sir? Say you that any merit of man goeth before the grace of God? No forsooth. For the very yielding of my mind, by the which I give my assent unto the warnings and inspirations of God, and do not refuse his benefits, is to be referred to the grace and mercy of him, that called me, and bowed my mind: and in the receiving of my salvation and dignity there is no merit of mine. For if I be a poor needy man, and oppressed with extreme necessity, what merit is mine, if I be sustained, and enriched by the liberality of some bountiful Prince, which ought me nothing? What doth the Physician own me▪ the which of his own accord hath healed my wounds, because I have suffered myself to be healed of him? Again what is he in my debt, which seeing me beset on every side with thieves, delivered me from present death? Nothing at al. So therefore it cometh to pass, that such as be received into the favour and grace of God, are saved by mercy: and such as be excluded from the grace of God, are repelled by his most just judgement. 
Rom. 9 c.   
It followeth in the text of S. Paul. What shall we then say? Is there any unrighteousness in God? God forbidden. For he saith unto Moses. I will have mercy on whom I have mercy: and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion. S. Paul giveth a reason, wherefore no man can possibly lay any unjustice to God. For the defence of God's justice standeth altogether in his mercy. For that often repetition of God's mercy signifieth his great constancy in giving mercy. And the mercy of God quiteth his justice of all slaunden. As though our Lord himself should say: I am by nature so merciful, that I pleasure in no thing more, then in pardoning of sins, and in keeping a most constant and everlasting mercy to maintain them, whom I have received into my protection. It may therefore be seen very well, when I do punish sin▪ that such as are condemned, do perish through their own default. For if they would come to good order, they might obtain the like mercy and be saved. But forsomuch as of their own accord, they esteemed more darkness than light, bondage then freedom▪ poverty than riches, death then life: it was just, that they should be thrown down headlong into bitter pain and torment. And so by this place which S. Paul allegeth after a hevenli sort, of the assuredness of God's mercy, we see his justice utterly discharged of all slander. Wherefore in the calamity of the jews no man could find any lack of truth in God, but he might well blame the unfaithfulness and wicked stubbornness of them, that would not be saved by the mercy of God Then to confirm this saying, and to teach us that all hope of salvation is to be referred to the merci of God, which is so freely offered to all men: he saith. It is 
Rom. 9 c.  not therefore in high that willeth, neither in him that runneth, but in God that taketh mercy. Will importeth a desire: running signifieth an earnest endeavour to honesty: the which both are comprehended in the benefit of God. For it is he the which with often calling upon me causeth me to will: it is he also, the which giveth a cheerfulness unto my wil Howbeit, neither my desire, neither my cheerfulness, shall have any good success, unless he of his mercy shall bring both my will and my earnest endeavour to perfection. For our strength is appaired, our hopes vanish all to nothing, so often as the mercy of God for our unkindness of heart, departeth from us. When I therefore do any good work, it is to be ascribed neither to man's will as being naturally inclined to honesty, neither to my earnest endeavour: but only to the mercy of God. But that it might appear yet more plainly, that the jews fell not through the unjustice of God, as ungodly men reported, but through their own unfaithfulness and wilful sin, he rehearseth the like example of naughtiness and lack of belief. For God used the like means in calling Pharaoh to honesty, and fraying him from unbelief. But he of a pride and stubbornness, which was in him, would abuse the mercy of God, to his far greater punishment and damnation. Upon this, S. Paul bringeth in these 
Exod. 9 d.  words. For the Scripture saith unto Pharaoh: for this have I stirred thee up, that I may show my power in thee, and that my name may be declared in all the earth. In the which place, two things are to be noted.  
The first is, that Pharaoh was not driven to such outrage by any violence o● force of God's behalf, as S. Paul declareth himself unon after. The other point is, that the wickedness of Pharaoh was therefore tolerated a great while of God, the most wise and bountiful Lord of all things, (which out of evil things draweth evermore some good, and bringeth things disordered into good order) that by showing one example of severity, he might keep a great many men in well doing. And this may appear much better, if we will try the words at the Hebrew fountain, for this sentence might very well be translated after this sort. For this cause have I suffered thee to stand, that I may sh●we my power to theo, and that my name may be honoured in all the earth. He sayeth not, I have taken away thy wits from thee, and I have caused thee to be mad, that thou shouldest continually rebel against me: but, I have suffered thee a great while, and have differred thy due punishment, that I might reserve it to the greater setting out of my glory, and the salvation of many men.  
He called Pharaoh both to faith and also to honesty. But for so much as Pharaoh regarded not the goodness of God, but ran on like a wild colt upon an unbridled affection: it stood very well, not only with God's justice, but also with his mercy, that many men should by the most just example of Pharaoh be put in fear, and so brought to good order. For as the governors of common weals do use to out of with constant severity, such as they can not redress by lighter punishments, to the end that they may by the terror of that punishment keep the rest of the citizens in order: even so doth that most high governor show sometimes an example of severity upon them, that will not be reformed, but will upon sin wickedly committed heap a shameless defence: that he may by the death of those lewd persons benefit the whole, and that he may, in punishing the wicked, show many points of his high mercy.  
What is the cause then, that we see that word so often repeated: And God hardened the heart of Pharaoh. To harden is, to give unto wicked men, which do abuse good things unto malice, some matter with the which they may increase their sin and stubbornness. Knowest thou not, saith S. Paul, that the goodness of God moveth the to penance? But thou, according to thy hardness and vacant heart, dost treasure up to thyself displeasure. In like manner therefore God caused not that hardness in Pharaoh: but Pharaoh refused the mercy of God, and of a certain hardness and frowardness, that was rooted in him, abused the clemency of God unto greater sin, and so increased the heap of God's wrath towards him every day more and more.  
Now mark how wonderfully the Apostle linketh together his arguments▪ First of all he declareth, that to be a true Israelite cometh not of man's nature, but of the grace of God. Then he confirmeth the justice of God, by the greatness of his grace, which is offered freely to all men, that will use it. For by that mercy it is evidently seen, that such as perished, perished through their own default: and this doth he declare more plainly by the example of Pharaoh, the which refused the mercy of God, and was willingly forlorn: that it might be gathered by this, that the jews fell in like manner through their own wilful blindness, because their heart was to obstinately bend and har●lened in wickedness: and that their damnation is not to be imputed unto God, which called them to salvation▪ but unto their own naughtiness and stubbornness, which refused the goodness of God. Upon this the Apostle bringeth in these words. Wherefore he taketh 
Rom. 9 ●.  mercy on whom he will, and hardeneth whom he wil The which is not so to be taken, as though the thing that God willeth, he willeth it without great good reason. For the will of his everlasting wisdom can not be sundered from understanding, reason, and advisement. And his will is to reward the faith of the chosen, not as of duty, but according to grace. His will is also to withdraw his help and aid, from such, as refuse it, and to suffer them to be of a corrupt judgement. hereupon S. Paul sayeth: Then you will say 
Ibidem.  unto me: Wherefore doth he yet complain? For who shall withstand his will? In these words S. Paul bringeth in the person of a presumptuous man, the which judged rashly of the counsel of God, and understandeth this sentence of the scripture naughtily: and he maketh him to speak very ungodly, that he may the better stop the mowth of ungodliness itself. If this be true, saith every wicked person, that God taketh mercy on whom he will, and whom him listeth, he refuseth him, and hardeneth his heart, and no man can resist his will: then he that sinneth, sinneth of necessity. If he do sin of necessity, wherefore doth God so often complain of the hardness and cruelty of wicked men?  
This sinful and presumptuous talk S. Paul confuteth two ways. First of all, he showeth, that it is a presumptuous act, to judge of the judgement of god. For even for this cause only, that a thing is done by god, although we understand not the reason of it, yet must we assuredly think, that it was done, not without great reason. Then he declareth the counsel of God, by the which he hardeneth, that is to say, beareth long time with the wicked, and at the length leaveth them destitute of his aid and help, that he may suffer them to perish 
Rom. 9 d.  to the profit of manier. O man, saith the Apostle, who art thou, that reasonest with God? Doth the thing, which is formed, say unto him that formed it, why hast thou made me so? May not the potter make of one lump of clay one vessel to honour, and an other to dishonour? In which place you may consider by the name of a pot, that it is not a work which is determined without reason, but such a thing, as is done by workmanship. Wherein he giveth you to understand this much. If the potter, as a potter, doth what so ever he doth, by art: much more doth God all things, by art, reason, and counsel. S. Paul therefore speaketh after this sort. O man wilt thou not look circumspectly about thee? wilt thou not acknowledge the frailty of thy nature? wilt thou not consider the wisdom and power of god? Wilt thou not dread his Majesty? If there were any sense in earthen vessels: surely such vessels were not to be borne withal, as would dispute with the potter, which made them, of the workmanship wherewith they were made. Much less is the presumpteousnes of a seely man to be borne▪ the which improveth the judgement of that most excellent governor, and in an endless and incomprehensible wisdom findeth lack of cunning and skill. Art thou at that point in deed? The thing, the cause and reason whereof thou art not able to attain unto by wit, wilt thou by and by stand unto it, that it is void of all reason? The potter maketh by art one vessel for honour, an other for dishonour: and look what is made by art, no man may well find fault withal. And wilt thou say, that the thing, which is made of that most high and perfect wisdom, (in the which neither rashness, neither unjustice may rest) is made undiscreetly and unjustly? By these words S. Paul intends only to put us to understand, that it is a very grievous offence, to try the judgements of God by the balance of man's reason, and to doubt of his justice. He doth therefore only keep down unreasonable presumpteousnes, and frayeth rash and proud ' men, by denouncing unto them the judgement of god.  
After that he declareth, what is to be holden as touching this question. These are his words. If so be, that God 
Rom. 9 ●.  willing to show his wtath, and to make his power known, hath suffered the vessels of wrath with much patience, which were shaped to destruction, that he might show the riches of his glory towards the vessels of mercy, the which he hath prepared to glory. It is an unperfect speech, the which manner of speaking S. Paul useth often times. There lacketh either this, or some other thing like to this. And yet wilt thou reprove the wise and just counsel of god?  
Now in these words, first of all it is to be noted, that God framed not the vessels of wrath. Truth it is, that God made nature unto the vessels, but not sin, not ungodliness, not the rest of vices, which deserveth to be punished most sharply by the severity of God's judgement, (which the holy Scripture calleth wrath). For it cometh to pass by the will of every wicked man, that he is made the vessel of wrath, which would not be made the vessel of mercy. The which thing S. Paul meaning to set forth more plainly, saith: He suffered. And being not satisfied with that word he saith moreover: He suffered in much patience the vessels of wrath. What is this? What grief is that so great? What torment is that so crewel, that, to the bearing of it, God needed patience, yea and that no mea●●, but exceeding great patience? doubtless it is that, which is (if God were subject to any grief) of all griefs, that may be devised, the greatest: to wit, it is vicious living, wickedness, and an obstinate will to continued in sin. For there is nothing else, that disagreeth with his virtue, goodness, and wisdom: there is nothing else, that is directly against his most holy ordinances and laws: to be short, there is nothing else, that God doth most extremely hate and dearest. So that, it is no wonder, if a very great patience were (to speak of God as of a man) needful, to bear such a bitter torment. God therefore caused not this hardness of heart in Pharaoh, but he suffered with a certain great patience the wilful stubbornness of that most wicked man, which grieved his heart. The which thing to express the better, S. Paul saith: Vessels made to destruction. He saith not: The vessels which God himself hath made to destruction: as he saith a little after of the vessels of mercy, the which God himself hath prepared to glory: that you may understand, that Godly men are appointed unto glory by the will and mercy of God, and that wicked men are thrust out violently into everlasting torments, through every man's own 
isaiah. 50. d  wilful sin: as isaiah saith. Go into the fire, which you have kindled for your own selves. But to what end, I pray you, did that most high Lord suffer so long time and with such great patience the vessels of reproach? To show, saith the Apostle, his wrath: that is to say, to show the severity of his most holy judgement, and the power of his majesty. Again, I ask you: to what purpose was it, to desire 
Rom. 9 c.  to declare that unto men? To show, saith he, the riches of his glory towards the vessels of mercy, the which he hath prepared to glory. For he doth all things for the chosen's sake.  
Now it remaineth, that we do consider, what fruit do the chosen take by setting the judgement of god, before their eyes? Very great without doubt. For first of all, while the chosen see the wicked punished according to their deserts, it putteth a certain fear of God's justice into their hearts, which causeth them to abstain from evil doings. For the foundation of 
Prou. 1. a.  true wisedō●● is laid upon the fear of God. Moreover the virtue of the good being assaulted both by the privy awaits, as also by the forcible attempts of wicked persons shineth a great deal the brighter. For virtue maketh a great show of herself, when it is neither corrupted by the example of vicious men, neither turned away from the exercise of godliness through naughty counsel, neither drawn from the love of most holy Religion by threatenings or torments. Again when they consider by the fall of the wicked, out of how great thraldom they are delivered by the mercy of God, they embrace their parent and redeemer with a much more fervent desire and earnest love. Last of all the very holiness itself of the everlasting law, and the order of Gods justice being set before the eyes and sight of good men, bringeth them to a clearer understanding of God, and causeth the mercy of God used towards holy men to be the better known: and so increaseth their joy. To the intent therefore that the good might take so great and so manifold fruits by the damnation of the wicked: god would not use any such violence towards the wicked, that they should commit sin as being driven unto it of necessity: but he suffered most patiently their wilful frowardness and stubborn obstinacy, that he might in the end turn altogether to the glory of his chosen.  
If you have not utterly lost all sense of a sober man, you may see plainly, that free will is not by the saying of S. Paul taken away, but rather very surely established. These things the Apostle prosecuteth afterward more at large, and declareth at the length, how the jews fell from God through their pride, arrogancy, unfaithfulness, and obstinacy. For they were so puffed up with a vain affiance of a shadowed justice, which stood upon the works of the law, that they despised very stubbornly and wickedly the true justice, which consisteth in cleanness of life, in holiness, in charity, in peace, in joy, and in other the like furniture of heavenly virtues which by the holy ghost are planted in the minds of godly men.  
Now for so much as this is the saying and meaning of S. Paul, what rage was that, that came into that mad man's brain, the which went about by the authority of S. Paul to persuade such an opinion, as both overthrew good order amongst men, and falsely charged God with unjustice? For what right is it, that wicked men should be punished for a wicked act, which they committed, not willingly, but being violently driven unto it by an everlasting and external power.  
Luther say you, set out a Book, in the which he spoke earnestly against the hurly-burlies in Germany. What if some one of them, whom he rebuked, should have said unto him even then: o Luther, why dost thou blame us innocent men? why keepest thou such a stir? why playest thou the mad man? we have learned of thee, that it is not in us to do any thing good or evil: in so much that we are not free, so much as to think such things, as we would. For God worketh all things in us, as you say: and we are only certain working tools, the which god thrusteth out with his hand, whether so ever him listeth, and wrencheth us forward and backward at his pleasure. These tourmoiles therefore andsedition, for the which you blame us, God all only, as you teach, hath stirred up. For so much as therefore, that most mighty Lord, whose power can not be hindered by any strength of man, is the mover, the deviser, yea the doer of this stir, why blame you us for it? Why revile you us? Why labour you vainly to withdraw us from this sedition? If any man, I say, of that multitude, which Luther took up with such sharp words, had said thus much unto him: I pray you, what answer would he have made? With what honest shift would he both maintain his doctrine, and defend the justice of God?  
But to let Luther pass: what say you sir Luther's advocate, which say, that he was sent from God: how may you (if you approve his doctrine and rules) punish male factors? If there be no freedom, if man's will be tied, if all power be taken away, if the very thoughts be fettered, if all things, both greatest, and least, and middlemost, be bound with an everlast necessity, if God be the author and doer of all things both good an evil: undoubtedly those seely wretches, which you (as I take it) command to be had away to execution, have done nothing. By what right do you punish the innocent men? What reason have you to put guiltless persons to death? who made this law, that the doers of felony should be acquitted, and the tools or instruments of felons condemned? with what kind of speech, are you able (if you mind to maintain this doctrine) to rid that most high judge of the infamy of unjustice. Is this no villainy? Is this no madness? Is this no presumptuous part of a rash and an unbridled mind? And yet whereas Luther doth at one time both disturb the order of man's life, and lay unto god's charge, (like a most shameless varlet) the crime of unjustice: he is not afraid to say, that he standeth in defence of God's glory, which he goeth about to deface and overthrow.  
You say, that I do condemn the first founders of this doctrine, as no less wicked and ungodly, then if they 
Protag. and Diagoras. thought there was no God.  were like unto Protagoras or Diagoras. I am not so blunt, that I would say so. I think them not only comparable with Diagoras in wickedness, but also incomparably worse than ever he was. For I take it to be more tolerable, to think that there is no God, then to think that God is a malefactor and unjust.  
Now as touching providence (that I may once conclude this matter) I say no more but this. If the providence of 
Providence  God be a counsel determined by the foreknowledge of things, if the word of election, if the purpose of God, that is to say, the prevented judgement and everlasting decree do import a reason and meaning: then doth he confess the providence of God, which bele●ueth, that there was nothing appointed and ordained of God from before the beginning of the world without very great counsel, justice and reason. And contrary wise, they that say, that God hath sorted out of the common lump of mankind such as he would direct unto everlasting glory, and 
protestāns deny Gods providence.  such as he would appoint unto everlasting damnation, upon none other reason or consideration, but because him listed so to do: how so ever they maintain the providence of God in word, they deny it in deed. For he that taketh away the meaning and reason, taketh away providence.  
But will you see, how like a babbler you prosecut the rest of your matters? Your words are these. At the length when you have scholded your fill, you begin to conclude somewhat, making a total somme of all such things, as you complain have been overthrown by our men: and you ask what thing hath succeeded in their room. O M. Haddon I have just cause to complain. For I see none other thing set up in the steed of them, but only that worshipful act of yours, in the which you glory so much, and therefore you repeat it very often. For the superstitious idleness of lurking hypocrites, say you, we have set up the necessary business of Christian profession: for wandering pleasures, most honourable marriage: for the dreams of men's inventions, the holy Scriptures of God the Father, and of our Lord jesus Christ. The waist and havoc of holy things I see: but what you have restored in their room I see nothing, as I told you before, except it be, for most godly quietness, most wicked stirring: for the love of chaste life, filthy and incesteouse ribaldry: for the purity of most holy doctrine, most pestilent errors of desperate fellows.  
Would God, say you, ye had here broken of your most reproachful epistle: Of like you are not ashamed of your taunts, which you have gathered together without any cause in the world. I assure you, I am weary of the rehearsal of them. To what purpose is it, to repeat so often, without argument, without comely grace, without any likelihood of truth, those your so shameless and unreasonable errors, in the ears of the queens majesty, yea in the ears of all Christ endume? How standeth this gear together, M. Haddon? Said you not before, that I was an excellent framer of words and sentences? Confessed you not, that you liked well my kind of utterance? Have you not called me often times in this your book Cicero his scholar? Wherefore then say you now, that my epistle was written without any argument (as for the comely and pleasant grace I will say nothing?) By like, when you commended mine eloquence, you spoke not in earnest and as you thought. You dallied with me, Sir pleasance, you dallied: and the lady Venus, in the honour of whom you have profaned and unhallowed the temples of chastity, hath besprinkled you with her comely and pleasant graces. Howbeit I think this very much to be misliked in this your pleasantness, that it can not be well perceived, when you speak in earnest, and when you sport. But peradventure you think it a commendation of a sharp wit, to speak darkly, and therefore you use it in disputation also. But how often you cast me in the teeth with the name of Cicero? As though I should be ashamed of him, or else thought myself able to express in my writings any part of his wit, vehemency, and copy: as though I had studied Cicero only, and had not spent very much time in other▪ the highest points of learning. But you like a foxie lawyer and wily proctor, have made a very good proviso, that no man may well lay the name of Cicero to your charge. For you speak nothing in clean speech, nothing plainly, nothing distinctly, nothing orderly, nothing gravely, nothing eloquently. What so ever liketh you, you put it in: and then you prove it, not by argument and reason, but by railing and shameless talk. At the length as though you had won the field, you prick me with the bristles of your reproachful tongue, you press me with a numbered of apish questions▪ you triumph like a noddy before the victory. Whereupon you say thus?  
What say you good sir? And then? S. Paul detesteth it: Jerome Osorius is not afraid to avouch it. As though I affirmed that thing, which you there denied, or else meaned to dispute with S. Paul, and not with Luther. And again. What saith, Jerome Osorius? And again. Do I make any thing? Do I change any thing? And with these words for sooth, you would have seemed to be a vehement speaker 〈◊〉 this of thee, M. Haddon, if you can (because your 〈◊〉 luck was to chance upon such a master, which brought you up so foolishly and so ignorantly) that these questions are then both gra●e and vehement in deed, when the adversary i● convinced by some firm and sure argument. For otherwise they are very ●olish and to be laughed at: for so much is they have no vehemency or strength in the world, but only a declaration of a certain pitiful pang or heat of the stomach. So God help me, as I could not sometime (although your talk seemed unto me very much to be pitied) hold myself from laughing. And so I am fully discharged of my promise, which I made you, that, in case you could drive me either by ground reasons, or else by true examples to geave my assent unto you, I would not refuse it. For neither have you brought any argument, neither alleged any example, that was to the purpose: and y●t, as though you had borne yourself like a pretty man, you rage and revel in words, and keep a marvelous pitiful and frantic stir. I can not devise, what wicked spirit it should be, that put you in mind to take this charge of writing upon you. Yet I mean not, but that you may do, as you think good: neither will I limit you in such sort, that you may not in writing show yourself to be as foolish, as you list. And to put you in good comfort, take this of my word, that no man, which is of any judgement, will find fault with you, for being to much a Ciceronian.   

THE THIRD BOOK.  
IT followeth now, that we make answer unto your other complaint, in the which you seem to take that part of mine epistle very grievously, wherein I reckoned up the impudency, the robberies, poisonings, conspiracies and other detestable vices, so many, that my master Cicero, as you faith, never heaped up more against Verres, with the which I should say, that England was atteinted. Wherein you show very plainly, that you read those my letters with little heed. For it was never my meaning, to condemn all England of such vices. For I know, there are in that Island very many godly and religious men, which never fell from the holy church, but would gladly yield their lives for the glory of Christ, if need so required. Yea many have already by their most honourable death set out their faith exceedingly: many have abiden imprisonment, reproachful words, with divers other incommodities: many being loath to see such a decay of religion, wander from place to place of their own accord like banished men and outcasts, and have liefer to keep a continual combat with misery and neediness, then to behold with their eyes so heavy a sight. The which thing very many other men would do also, if you would suffer them. Moreover and this I hear that there are certain places within that Island, unto the which the infection of this morreine is not yet come: and it is reported that there are many noble men also, which are untouched. A friend of mine, an honest and credible person, which hath some doings in England, told me this for certain, that there are more in the realm, that continue in their faith still, then there are of such as have forsaken it: howbeit they dare not profess it openly, for fear of them, that are in authority. For it is lawful for them, so long as they are not required to profess their faith openly, to keep it to themselves, until such time, as, they must either maintain their religion by suffering death, (if they be put unto it) or else reserve themselves to a better world, to the end that all good men decay not at once. And as for them, whose hearts are not blinded with pride, which are carried away, not so much of malice and naughtiness, as of simplicity of mind (of the which there are very many) may very easily be brought home again. Wherefore I said not, that all the Island was given to such vices, neither have I laid down all hope of the recovery of the whole: no, I trust to see within these few days such an alteration of things, that the very remembrance of this most pestilent plague shallbe utterly abolished.  
Furthermore I meant not in those my letters (as I told you before) to make any inditement or accusation, but to advertise your Prince, that she should not suffer herself to be infected with the pestilent sects of desperate fellows: the which thing that I might do it the better, I declared certain tokens, by the which true religion might be discerned from false religion, and true Prophets from false Prophets. In the doing whereof if I lacked discretion, we shall see anon. Thus much have I spoken concerning my letters, the which you say were written without good argument, and without any comely grace. Wherein I find a great lack of gravity in you: for it is not the part of a grave man, to be moved with a talk, which is void of all good argument. And yet you (as a man may well conjecture by your writings) after you had read my letters, fell into such a pelting chafe, such a rage and madness, that you betrayed your grief by reproachful and railing talk: yea you went so far in it, that you were not ashamed to bewray to the world the very stammering and stuttering of your tongue.  
You confess also, that my letters were carried up and down throughout all Christendom, the which should not have been done, if they had been written without any good ground.  
But let us see, how you, which say that I had no argument to stay upon, will answer that mine argument, by the which I proved, that the purity of the Gospel was not restored by your masters, for so much as amongst the disciples of your Gospel there reigneth a numbered of most detestable vices. Tush, say you, it is all false, that you report of the dishonesty of the men of our side. Such is your impudence, M. Haddon, that you will deny the thing, which is known and commonly bruited, yea which is sealed and confirmed by the testimonial of the whole world. Do you not confess the broils and tumults of Germany? See you not with your eyes, how voluptuousness flieth to and fro avancing herself? how licentious living getteth up and down uncontrolled? how the churches of religious men are profaned with bloodshed? how all places of devotion are rifled and rob how treason and wily practices are wrought against Princes by your sectaries? how all places, where so ever your masters set up school, are distourbed with hurly-burlies? How then dare you say, that that thing was never done, which you not only hear of other men, but also see it done daily with your own eyes?  
Admit, say you, that this were true: yet could it never come of this cause which you gather. I would feign learn of you, how it should not come of this cause. There was always, say you, darnel somen amongst the good corn. There was always seeds of diverse kinds, of the which some were choked in the thorns, and some were dried up by the heat of the son. The false Prophets did always bend themselves against the true Prophets: our Lord jesus Christ found Caiphasses; the Apostles found Nerons: the Martyrs, that followed them, found Decies. But to omit these things as over stolen, I will bring you home to your own doors. In your Church is there not sin committed openly? Do not men offend in the sight of the world? You deny it not. Well then, throw away your argument, the which either it is of no force, or else, if it be, it is against your own self first, and against your Church.  
By this talk you think, that you have turned the eadge of our dagger. But you see not, how many faults there are in it. first of all I deny not, that it was ever so (as I said plainly in my letters) that there were many vices in every common weal, and that the seeds of naughtiness were sown amongst the good corn. But I required (and that instantly) to understand, how these men of god had discharged their duty, which took upon them to purge the corn, and to pluck up all such weeds are were noisome to the corn. The which thing when I saw they performed not, yea, when I saw that through their diligence vice came up a great deal ranker than it did before, I gathered by that, that their doctrine was nothing wholesome. That the true Prophets sustained the enmity of false Prophets, Christ of Caiphas, the Apostles of Nerons, the Martyrs of Decies, I grant you: but that maketh much more for the confirmation of mine argument. For virtue was ever envied of the wicked, hatesull to vicious, assaulted by the unfaithful. 
Virtue ever assaulted, and yet prevaileth.  And yet was it always of such puissance, that it prevailed against all craft and policy, against all subtle practices and privy awaits, against the force of wickedness and vice, and brought to the world a goodly and wholesome ordre. For they that gave ear to the Prophets, that followed Christ, that kept the faith of the Apostles, that reverenced the constancy of the Martyrs, were not presumpteouse, wicked, disordered, and vicious: but they were wise, modest, gentle, courteous, decked and beautified with diverse and sundry virtues. For the virtue of holy men, the more it was assaulted, the greater and goodlier increase it yielded of godly fruit. But your doctors which were sent, as you say, from heaven into the world, having the aid of great Princes, being guarded by the common people, yielded no fruit of honesty, chastity, or meekness to such as followed them.  
I speak not of your adversaries, by whom you will complanie peradventure, that your brethren have been wrongfully withstood, even as the Martyrs were some time by the Decies: but I speak even of them, that love Luther, Bucer, Zwinglius, and your Martyr, that praise and reverence them, yea that esteem them as gods: I say, that they themselves, which procured to have these wise men to be their schoolmasters, proved never a whit the better: whereby it is concluded, that their doctrine was nothing wholesome, even to such as did not only not disallow it, but also esteemed it very highly.  
Now whereas you demand of me of our Church (for so you speak) whether it be void of all sin: I have already lamented the sinful life of our men very oft. There reigneth, I grant you even at this day amongst us both covetousness and ambition in many: neither is voluptuousness grubbed up by the roots.  
Why then, say you, the argument, which I used, may easily be turned against our own selves. How so I pray you? If there should arise some great prophet amongst us, which would take so great a charge upon him, as to purge and fine the gospel to restore the ancient discipline, to prop up the Church, which tendeth to ruin, with heavenly doctrine, to bring his disciples to live like Apostles: if we should follow high and yet that notwithstanding live in vice as we did before, then were this a good argument, both against our prophet, as also against our own selves. But the brightness of this so clear light hath not yet shined upon us: wherefore it is no wonder, if we continue still in our accustomed sins. But to you, whom the spirit hath replenished with a certain new light, which might very easily have been instructed in heavenly things, by such men, as were sent from heaven for your salvation, which are by the goodness of God already delivered from superstition and hypocrisy which despise all worldly things, and will suffer nothing to be mingled with the purity of your Doctrine, unless it be drawn out of heaven: to you, I say, it were nothing seemly to have any dangerous disease or crack of unclean vice. For, if you have: your doctors, whom you commend above the skies, you shame them for ever, and their Doctrine you declare by your doings to be not only unprofitable, but also hurtful and pestilent. But for so much as you desire to understand the state of our Church, I will declare it unto to you, so briefly as is possible.  

The state and belief of the Catholic Church.  first of all, we do most constantly hold and maintain the Gospol, not of Luther, Melanchthon, Carolostadius, Zwinglius, Caluine or Bucer, but of Matthew, Mark, Luke and john: and we keep one faith, not this newly devised faith, which is joined with a rash and vain presumption: but that faith, which was taught by the Apostles, and is not corrupted through the naughtiness of outrageous and mad men.  
In like manner we are enclosed within one Church, which was sounded by Christ, instructed by the Apostles, fortified by the aid of the Martyrs, set out by the Doctrine of holy men, defended and kept always invincible by the power of the holy Ghost in spite of the malicious and violent attempts of all Hore●iques: and without this Church, we believe assuredly, that there is no hope of salvation.  
This Church we acknwolege to be so linked in one meaning, in one spirit, in the agreeable confession of one faith, yea to be fast glued together with such agreement in religion, that no man can possibly by devising new opinions (such as may concern the principal points of religion) rend and tear it into a numbered of sects jarring and squaring the one with the other without all reason and order.  
And because we know by the gospel, by the testimony of Martyrs, by the faithful and agreeable report of holy men, by reason and common experience of things, that it is not possible, that the Church should be one, except it have one supreme Governor the Vicar of Christ▪ which may by his inviolable authority join together things separated, knit uppo things loose●, and keep all me●ne in one faith and uniform order: we do most willingly obey the Bishop of Rome, which as Christ's deputy exerciseth this so great office in the earth, and what so ever is commanded us by him, we do it without any refusal. And the very experience of things maketh us to do it the more willingly, because we see, that, where so ever this authority is taken away, there breaketh out by and by many pestilent and troublesome sects. That this power is builded not upon any decree of man, but upon the ordinance of Christ himself, it is most evidently proved, not only by the authority of the holy Scripture, but also by the testimony of all the antiquity, (wherein we are not ignorant).  
We refuse not the authority of any lawful power. For we believe, as S. 
Rom. 13. a  Paul teacheth us, that all lawful power is ondeined by God: so that, who so ever resisteth a lawful power, is to be taken as though he did resist not men, but God himself. For this cause we believe, that not only the decrees of Popes, but also the ordinances of Kings (such as are not contrary to the law of God) are most diligently to be observed and kept. Amongst the ordinances of men this choice we make. All such as cause a slackness in the keeping of the law of God, we reject, as the devices of men: but all such as provoke us to be more earnest in the observation thereof, we judge to have been ordained, not without the instinct of the holy 
Mar. 9 f.  Ghost. For Christ said: He that is not against you, is for you. For this cause, we think that the rules of Basile the great, of Benet, Bernard, Brunus, Francis, Dominike, and other the like singular good and holy men, such as tend to the perfection of a Christian life, are not to be set at naught. For they are all written to this end, that such as bind themselves unto them, may the more willingly keep the chastity of body, and cleans of heart▪ the which two things are contained in the counsels of the Gospel) and may with a great deal more freedom and cheerelinesse sing and praise God day and night, and so with the more facility follow the life of Angels here in earth.  
If we see any decay in their manners through looseness or negligence, we think it expedient to provide out of hand, that it may be straightly bound up by the rigour of the old discipline, and not to overthrow the place, where men may live so godly and so wonderful a life. And because we can not be weaned from the acquaintance of the body so much as it were to be wished we could: because we understand, that the beginning of man's misery proceedeth of negligence and forgetfulness, what so ever thing mai bring us to remember the bowntifulnes and mercy of God, we use it very diligently.  
Therefore even as we make the sign 
Crosses.  of the Cross upon our forehead (the which manner S. Basile referreth to a tradition of the Apostles) so do we set up Crosses not only in Churches, but also in our houses and highways, to the end, that the remembrance of so great a benefit should never departed out of our mind. For if God, when he delivered the people of Israel by the diligence of Moses out of the weak dominion of Pharaoh, gave order unto them, that they should always have, before their eyes, in their hands, and in such places of their houses as were in sight, some monument of that benefit: how much more diligently ought we to do it, which are redeemed, not by the mean of Moses, but by the benefit of that most bountiful Lord, which was offered up for us, from everlasting darkness and damnation, into everlasting light, liberty, and glory?  
For the same cause were the Images of holy men set up of old time (as 
Images o● saints.  it is declared before) that men beholding them, should be moved the oftener to bend their minds to think upon those men, which walked more fervently in the steps of Christ, and to dispose themselves the sooner to follow their godliness and virtue. For in holy men, we do not so much reverence the men themselves, as the majesty of Christ, which dwelleth in their hearts. For they are the sons of God, the brothers of Christ, the heirs of the everlasting and heavenly kingdom: the which state all such have attained by the benefit of Christ, as have so nailed their senses upon the Cross, that there liveth none other thing in them, but only the spirit, will, and pleasure of Christ: as S. Paul said: 
Gal. 2. d.  I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me. And so we honour in holy men a most excellent gift of God, a very express Image of God, yea (after a manner of speech) certain Gods, in the brightness of whom we extol and praise for evermore the most high and everlasting benefit of God.  

The Catho like faith.  Now the faith, in the which we live, is such, that it doth neither minish our hope in attempting any good work, neither wipe away quite all fear or doubt of salvation: but it bringeth the well disposed minds in hope of godliness and virtue, and it driveth withal now and then a certain fear into all such, as think upon the rigour of God's judgements. For Christ, which by his blood hath drowned sin (as it is written) into the depth, and hath furnished all such, as are come unto him with a lively and true faith, with the gifts of holiness, purity and justice, hath appointed everlasting damnation to them, that refuse to obey his commandment. For he was made the 
Heb. 5. c.  cause of everlasting salvation, not to every man, that boasteth of faith, but to such as obey him (as Saint Paul● saith).  

Works.  Wherefore we believe, that the works of holy men are not distained with any uncleanness of sin (for that were a derogation and dishonour to Christ, for so much as they are done by his grace and power) and we know for certain, that such as think not, that the life of man is to be spent in doing holy works, (if they continue in that lewd opinion) shallbe tormented in hell for evermore.  
We confess, that men being destitute of the aid and grace of Christ, can neither do, nor endeavour, no nor think any thing, that is available to everlasting salvation: and therefore we believe, that all hope of salvation, all the mean to attain unto true honour, all the stay of life everlasting resteth in the mercy of God. And 
Free will.  yet we believe this assuredly, that it lieth in us, either to refuse, or else to accept thankfully this benefit, when it is offered unto us. And as we do not deface, neither the signs of the holy Cross, neither the Images of Christ, neither the monuments of holy men: so do we think, that the reverent ordre 
Ceremonies.  of all ceremonies, and the religious usage of holy Sacraments (I mean not any newefourmed ordre, devised and trimmed by the wit of fine M. Haddon, but that most old and ancient usage, which was approved by the full agreement of the holy Fathers, as it may easily appear by their writings) is most reverently and inviolably to be observed and kept.  

Penance.  When we fall, we think it expedient forth with to have recourse to the Church, and to the judgement of the 
Confession.  Priest. There is made a due examination of the sin, and it is seen how great the deformity of it was: whereupon the mind, which is now ashamed of such uncleanness, doth the more earnestly hate and detest the offence committed, and asketh pardon humbly, and is absolved by the sentence of the Priest, which representeth the person of Christ: but yet so, that he must discreetly submit himself to such order as the 
Mat. 10. d.  Priest will enjoin him. He that heareth 
Luc. 10. c.  you saith our Saviour Christ, heareth 
Io. 13. c.  me, and he that despiseth you, despiseth me.  

Our Lord's Supper.  After this we come with fear and trembling, and with a good affiance of the mercy of God, unto that most holy and dreadful Sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, in the which banquet we are so refreshed and strengthened, that we do withstand the tyranny of bodily lusts with a greater force and courage. And because it were a dangerous matter to leave all this to the will and discretion of every man (for there are many sick men, which will not be healed: and the life of the common sort is not so well governed by will, as by law and discipline) it hath been ordained upon great considerations, that all Christian men should be constrained to lay this so sovereign a salve to their wounds at the least once every year. There are many, which come unto this Sacrament oftentimes: but yet so, that they examine themselves before diligently, as Saint Paul teacheth, and endeavour themselves to wash out all the spots of sin by the merit of Christ, which they may most easily obtain, if they will confess and forsake their foremer life. It is a wonder to see, what a multitude of men is fed enerie Sonnedaie and Holy day in the year, with this Divine and heavenly food, and how by the help of it they are stirred more earnestly to seek after heavenly richesses. For we see in them, that are oftentimes refreshed with the most holy body of Christ, that the darkness of sin is driven away, the light of heaven riseth, virtue and godliness are planted in them, the most goodly fruits of justice are powered upon them abundantly.  

The office of bishops  Bishops, such as are able to preach, (the which hath been little regarded of some to the great hindrance of the Church) do preach oftentimes. Such as are not able to discharge it themselves, appoint certain religious and wise persons, men well learned, not in the rules of Bucer or your Martyr, but in the holy scripture, and in the books of the holy Fathers, to instruct the people with chaste, pure, and religious doctrine. And as we see it come to pass, especially in such as are blear eyed, that, if they be either put into an extreme dark place, or else look over steadily upon the son beams, they lose their sight: even so, if men either be altogether turned away from the light of God, or else will look to intentively upon it, before the blearedness of their mind be healed, they are stricken stone blind. Wherefore it is very wisely and warily provided of us, that we neither suffer the common people to lack the light of God's word any time, neither do we dasel their eyes so much with the brightness thereof (which they are not able to abide) that they may be therewithal miserably blinded. We bring therefore none other thing in our sermons, but that, which we judge effectual to bring men to the love of godliness and following of charity, to the hatred of sin and forsaking of uncleanness of life. And for this cause do we set before their eyes oftentimes, the crown of everlasting glory, and the pain of the everlasting torment. But the dangerous questions of dark and secret matters we do for good consideration leave untouched in such sermons as are made unto the people. The authority of Bishops is great: in so much that, it is not very hard for them to restrain the unbridled lust of disordered persons, and to remove them, that be obstinate in sin, from the Communion of the Church. Neither are such men chosen to be Bishops, as may be either for baseness despised, or for foolishness set at nought, or for notorious vices reprehended, and so do much hurt by their example.  

The times of the year  The times of the year are so consecrated and divided with ordinary and solemn ceremonies, that at all times there is somewhat done in the Church, which may renew in us the remembrance of God's graces and benefits.  

Advent.  And, to begin at the month of Decembre, we are then stirred up to remember that time, in the which the holy Fathers of the old time looked for the coming of the Son of God into the earth, and besought him with continual prayers to hasten it, and had a most earnest desire to see it: that we might the better understand, how much we are bound and indebted to God, which hath granted us the joyful fruition of that most excellent fruit, which the old Fathers, very holy men, and of God entirely beloved, so griedily lusted and longed after.  

Christmas  When the day of Christ's birth is come, we keep watches, and sing hymns and Psalms by note: our organs also and others instruments sound everywhere to the honour and praise of God: every thing doth then stir us up to behold the Son of almighty God, the most excellent Lord and maker of all the world, lying naked and crying in a manger in the weak form of a sucking babe. We hear then with the ears of our hearts the voices of Angels bringers of that glad tidings: and we endeavour by faith to do our homage with the sheape●erdes unto the King that is borne unto us: and fixing ourselves in the contemplation of him, we receive the fruit of incredible joy.  

Newyeres day.  The first day of januarie, the Church putteth us in mind, to behold the wound, which our Saviour received that day, and the Mystery of circumcision, and the most dreadful name of Jesus', which is the pledge of our salvation, and the lesson, which was then given us, of that most perfect obedience: and so by the strength and signification of this most holy name, we labour much more cheerfully to attain to the salvation, which is promised us.  

Twelse day.  What should I here say of the most bright star, which appeared to the Gentiles in the furthermost parts of the East?  

C●delmas  How might I express the incredible joy and pleasure of the holy man Simeon, when he bore the child in his arms? What should I here rehearse the exceeding gladness and comfort, the which Anna the widow conceived, or else the godly prophecies which she pronounced, when she behold the Child? All these things hath the Church set before our eyes with solemn pomp, and procession, and candles burning, to the intent, they should sink the deeper into our hearts.  
Now when the time of fasting draweth 
Lent.  nero, we behold how Christ was baptized by john in the flood jordane: we here the voice of the Father: we consider the fast, wherewith the son of God punished his own body: we record the temptations and wily practices of Satan against him: we endeavour ourselves, as much as we can, to set out the victory of Christ: we call to mind the homage of Angels, which brought him meat and served him. By this example of Christ we are taught, that we ought to keep ftil that purity and cleans, which we received in the holy fount of Baptism: that we should receive the voice of the father commanding us to obey him, with heart and mind: that we should subdue the body with fasting, and encounter with our old enemy the dinel: to the end that▪ at the length, the battle being fought, and the victory by the mighty protection of God achieved, we might be refreshed with heavenly food and comforted by the ministery of Angels. 
The holy Week.   
When the time approacheth, in the which we mind to celebrate the supper of our Lord▪ to do so holy a work with the greater devotion, we prepare ourselves much more diligently then at other times: and we do it with gladness and fear together. Then do we consecrate the holy Oils, by the which are fignified divers gifts and graces of the holy Ghost, according as S. Denyse and other holy Father write: and we minister the body of our Lord to all such as are ready to receive it: and we wash the feet of poor men, not only with water, but also with many tears sometimes: and by this example we cause such, as look on, to power out tears abondantly. But when we behold attentively Christ hanging on the Cross: when we consider, how he was scorned, reviled, tormented and put to death: when we pray for the salvation of all men's: when we come barefooted to worship Christ in his Image: when we bring in God himself complaining of our misliving: when we crave pardon for our sins in most humble and lowly wise: what man, think you, is then in the Church, which is not forth with stirred up to forsake sin, and to follow a better ordre of life?  
But when Easter day is come, we use such honour and pomp, we sing 
Easter.  such Hymns and Psalms, to advance the victory and triumph of Christ raised from death, to set out the sack and spoil of his enemies, to magnify his everlasting kingdom and empire, that we may seem for very joy and gladness to be besides ourselves.  

Ascension  His ascension also we record in such sort, that we think it our part, to bend ourselves, as much as we can, to climb up together with Christ into those goodly dwelling places of heaven.  

Witsontide.  What may be said of that inestimable benefit, wherein the holy ghost enkendled the Disciples of Christ with the love of God, and inflamed them with fiery tongues, to the end that they should go throughout all the world, and wrap up that heavenly fire in the bowels of faithful men? With how great joy and gladness is that feast also observed and kept in all the Church? 
The feasts of Saints   
Moreover when we keep the memory of holy men, in whose hearts the majesty of Christ dwelled, with due reverence: (for it is not lawful to separate them from the company of Christ, whom he himself taketh unto him as fellows and comparteners of all his goods) we are stirred up to a hope of a certain divinity, when we cast with ourselves, how they, that are of the self samè nature that we be of, for the likeness which they had with God in virtue, have most happily attained the state even of Gods.  

The feasts of our Lady.  And as we do most highly praise the holiness of other (as it becometh us to do) so do we especially honour, reverence, and worship that singular pattern of cleans, virginity, and godliness, that heavenvly and marvelous temple of the holy ghost, that most holy and immortal tabernacle of the everlasting promise, out of the which riseth the son of justice, to put away with the brightness of his beams the darkness of the whole world: and we do with right good affiance call for the help of the said most blessed Virgin in our distress and necessity, and we find, that her prayers do us much good often times before her Son.  
The service of the Church is so ordered, that, the year turning about, there is no benefit of God, the remembrance whereof the holy Church will suffer to be forgotten. And the Church doth represent the memory of all these benefits in such sort, that it seemeth, that they are not so much declared in words, as expressed in doings. For as the excellent Poet saith: 
The things we hear, do not so soon provoke the mind to rise,  
As do the things, that viewed are, with true and faithful eyes.   
All these things, which I have here declared, with many other of like sort, which I have omitted (for I think it not necessary, to rehearse particularly every point) are not (I grant you) matters of perfection. They are certain introductions and necessary helps for us, which have some what to do as yet with this mortal condition, as we feel by experience. For so often as these ordinances of the Church are little Regarded, the mind waxeth dull, diligence fainteth, the love of religion slaketh, and so by little there creepeth into our hearts a certain forgetfulness of virtue and godliness. Again, when we bend our minds earnestly to set up again those godly orders, we feel, that the love of religion and godliness is stirred and enkindled in us. And no marvel. For why, the brightness of that light, which hath so wonderfully lightened your minds, is not yet risen unto us: neither are we so weaned from the acquaintance of the body, that we may be without all these outward signs of heavenly things any time without great danger. This is the order of the Church, which is holy, simple, and one: this is the rule and Discipline, by the which all we, which have not yet attained unto the highest degree of wisdom, are instructed.  
Now I have declared these things, it remaineth, that I turn my talk unto those your heavenly fellows, and men of God, the which being not contented with this beaten and common discipline, have taught their disciples a new trade and doctrine which is more wonderful than this. give me leave therefore to talk with them after this sort.  
It is a great matter (right wonderful Sirs) and a hard enterprise, which you have taken in hand: a thing of so great importance in deed, as none of all those holy Fathers, whose virtue and wit we esteem very much did ever attempt the like in all their life: to cure an old forgrown disease with a new kind of medicine. When you saw that the old discipline was fallen, that manners were decayed▪ that unlawful lust ranged up and down without restraint, that the Church tended to ruin: you did, (as it became holy men sent from heaven) take it very heavily. Wherein I can not blame you. For it was a matter worthy of many tears and much bitter weeping. But you rested not so: because it were a token of a faint heart and weak stomach, to pity the fall and ruin, and not to procure any other remedy for such a mischief, but only a few tears. You did not therefore, as we are wont to do, sorrow and lament so great a mishap, and power out tears unto God for it: but you thought it good to provide by your labour, study, and wakeful diligence, that the Church should not be quite overthrown. And who can deny, but that this is a token of an honourable heart and a valiant courage. But let us see, after what sort you have performed this so great, so weighty, and so worthy an enterprise.  
I must therefore repeat a sentence, which I used in my letters, for the which M. Haddon, a man brought up in your rules and doctrine, quarreled with me very sharply. What: have you thought it expedient to heal the wounds, which the Christian common weal hath taken, by such means, as the most holy Fathers used of old time in propping up the Church, when it was like to decay? No, say you: for they were the devices of men: and so great a mischief could not be remedied by man's help, but only by the stay and mighty power of God. And therefore you determined to forsake all wordly helps, and to stick only to the word of God. Very well. For that is it in deed, which healeth the mind, fortifieth the strength, giveth light to the soul, and bringeth it to everlasting glory. Wherefore I long to see some work of this your word of god (wherein you glory so much) which may be so notable and so undoubtedly wrought by God, that it mai appear to the world by it, that you did not without good cause set all other remedies at nought, and lay all the hope of your salvation upon the only stay of this your gospel. But for so much as the kingdom of god that is to say, the gospel and power of the word of God consists, not in the vaunt of words, but in a marvelous virtue: and this virtue standeth, not in undiscreet and saucy talk, not in filthy and licentious living, not in bitter hatred and flamboldnes, but in modesty, continency, and charity, in the works of justice, and love of godliness: my desire is to survey narrowly this your wondered gentleness; courtesy, softness, patience, continency, charity, holiness of life, and other the like virtues, which may witness, that the Church hath been preserved by you. But this can not be, say you, before all such things, as hinder this our great and godly purpose, be taken quite away. For it is the office and duty of the word of God, to pull down the old house, before the fowndations of the new house be laid. I take this also to be very well and wisely spoken. For even as a medicine purgeth oholer or other noisome humours, which do molest the body, before it doth repair nature being feeble and brought low: so was it expedient for you, to expel pride, covetousness, lechery, and other diseases of the soul, before the Church could receive the comfortable nourishment of virtue and godliness. This devise of yours I like very well. But now I desire to know, how these hurtful and pestilent humours have been purged by you. Oh, say you, there was nothing in the world so much against godliness, as superstition: wherefore our principal care was, to take away all superstition. You are not to be blamed for that: for in deed there is nothing so much contrary to true virtue, as is false and counterfeicte virtue. Well now, I will not demand of you, how you have taken away superstition: for that is very evident. You have defaced the authority of the Bishop of Rome: you have overthrown the houses of Monks and Nuns: you have laid hand on such goods, as were appointed to holy uses: you have rifled churches: you have bestowed the goods of them upon whom you listed: you have minished the reverence of the ancient ceremonies: you have defiled the religious usage of Sacraments: you have thrown down Images, monuments, Crosses, and altars: you have condemned the devout tears and good works of holy men as nought and ungodly: you have disannulled the holy decrees, laws, and ordinances of the Church: you have cut of all hope of true virtue and honesty, by a certain tyrannical estate or invincible kingdom of sin, which you have full clerkly by your doctrine set up. Neither were you contented with this waist and spoil of things, but you have also taken quite away the freedom of man's will: and contrary to nature and reason, contrary to the equity and justice of god's law, you have tied up all the doings and thoughts of men, good and bad, wholesome and unwholesome with a certain fatal necessity. These are the things (with many other of like sort) which, I see, are by you, as the lets and stays of wholesome doctrine, pulled down, defaced, destroyed, mangled and minced in pieces.  
I do not now bewail the decay and waist of holy things. For if the health of the church could not otherwise be recovered, if the Gospel could not otherwise be brought to his old brightness and dignity, I could easily bear this loss, and it would not grieve me to see those things, that stand whole, the which you have not yet destroyed, to be utterly razed withal.  
Wherefore if you have left any thing untouched, set upon it also, if it like you, shake it, pull it, hourle it down upon the ground, so that you restore us that ancient fervency of godliness, that love of justice and equity, that ampleness of charity, that contempt of wordly things, that earnest desire of heavenly life, with the which the Church was inflamed of old time in the Apostles days. This is the purity of the Gospel, this is the excellent work of the word of God, in this standeth the whole performance of your promise. You can not discharge your duty and band with any mean virtue. For when I see the sack and spoil, which you have made, to be so great, how might I think it to stand with right or reason, that you should recompense it with any mean commodity? Wherefore I will ask you once again, although M. Haddon be offended withal, I will earnestly demand, yea I will most instantly require of you, what thing is restored by you in the steed of all those things, which you have pulled down? I will repeat the self same words, that I used in those my letters, which M. Haddon so much reviled.  
What is overthrown I see, but what is set up, I see not: what is grubbed up by the root I perceive, but what is planted I perceive not. Tell me, I pray you, what it is, to repair the doctrine of the Gospel when it tendeth to decay? What it is, to bring all things very near, as M. Haddon your disciple saith, to the rules of Christian godliness unto the most holy doctrine of the Apostles? what it is, to drive away with a new light and brightness the darkness of errors, and missed of sin, in the which men lived? I think it be, to bring to pass, that men may have no will to look down unto the earth, that they may be desirous to look up to heavenward, to become modest and humble, to be inflamed with the love of holiness and chastity, to be decked and beawtified with the commendable virtues of meekness, patience, gravity, and constancy, to be very obedient to the Rulers of the Church, to yield very great honour and love to the governors in the common weal, to employ their whole life, devices and practices to a common profit, to be zealously bend to wards godliness and Religion, finally to make and prepare the way to heaven by godly virtues.  
I demand of you therefore, whether there be any one man amongst all those, that so much esteem and reverence you, yea that set you up as Gods, endued with such a servant love of heavenly things, with such chastity and cleanness of life, that he will not suffer himself to be distained with any spot of dishonesty: with such patience and gentleness, that, although he be provoked with railing and despiteful language, he will not only not offend in word, such as wronged him, but also wish them all good things and prosperity: with such lovingness and charity, that he will bestow all his substance to the common profit; with such gravity and constancy, that he will never be disordered: witn such a burning love of everlasting life and glory, that he will forsake all the light and vain pleasures of the world, that he will pitch down his Cross, and dash against it all his unlawful lusts: that he will think upon Christ only, and sit down at his feet: that he will love God earnestly, and be, as it were, violently carried up to heaven in mind and thought. With all these virtues did the Church sometimes flourish: with these fire brands of godly love were men of old time inflamed: from this most servant love of godliness could they not possibly be brought by any terror or torments. And this took you upon you, to purge the gospel thoroughly, to put to flight superstition utterly, and to enkindle again the light of the ancient Church, which was put out.  
Be therefore as good as your word, perform your promise, discharge your debt, into the which you are incurred. Restore that purity of mind, restore that chastity of body, restore that fervency of godliness, restore that continency, and gentleness, that peace and concord, that band of charity and friendship, bring your countrymen again to that state, from the which we are all fallen: that you may by such a wonderful alteration of things, and heavenly example of virtue put us to silence, to whom this newfangledness is both suspected and hateful. As for us, it is no marvel, if we have not as yet attained this great and high perfection in virtue. For you have not yet set out this goodly light to us. I ask this question therefore of such only, as take your part, how holily, how uprightly, how religiously they live. For reason would, as I said before, that we should look for no mean matters at your hands. For you have taken upon you a charge of so great honour, magnificency, and profit to the world, as possibly there can not be devised a greater. Wherefore unless your adherentes and disciples do so much excel in virtue and honesty all other men, that are virtuous and godly, (and yet be not of your school) that they may dim the light of their virtue, and put them out of conceit: you have not fulfilled your promise. For if the self same degree of honesty might have been kept and maintained by us, without the loss and ruin of those things, upon the which you have laid your violent and greedy hands: if the virtue of your brethren do not very much pass the virtue of our men: shall it not appear to the world, that you wise men have taken a great deal of pains in defacing of those things, which you have overthrown, to no purpose or profit? Shall it not be seen, that those things were not the lets or stays unto you, for the which could not exercise justice and godliness?  
What if your Disciples are not only never the better by defacing those things, but rather much more disodered and outrageous, much more wicked and vicious? What, if licentious living be now less punished, if mischievous hardiness be now greater, if more debate and greater broils have been stirred up, sense you have set your selves to be teachers of men? What, if more robberies and shamefuller acts are now committed amongst you in every part of the realm (if it be true, that is reported)? What, if there be wrought more traitorous practices against the majesty of Princes, even by such as have given themselves fully and wholly to your doctrine?  
But I will let your masters go, and will urge you, M. Haddon, once again? What can you allege? What example can you bring of that ancient virtue? How can you maintain and defend this newfangledness? And yet you will avouch, that your Church differeth nothing at all from the order and discipline of the Apostles. You say many things in deed: but no man, which is in his right wit, will ever believe you. It is not enough to affirm, what so ever you list, in words. I look for the examples of this heavenly virtue, and not for vain words. If you see unlawful lust set at liberty, disorder flinging up and down without check, the high ways beset with thieves and murderers, tumults stirred up, conspiracies wrought, and dangerous practices devised against common weals every where: if all these mischiefs be not only not taken away after the time that the doctrine of these fellows, whom you so highly commend, took place, but rather much more increased: with what face dare you say, that this your new doctrine differreth nothing from the doctrine of the Apostles?  
You say, that I require a perfection which can not be had in this life. It is like enough sir, that I do speak of light offences, such as continent and honest men may fall into every hour, and not of most vile, filthy, and infamous crimes, such as have caused all holy things to be wasted, spoiled, and consumed with fire, without any fruit of godliness and Religion, the which things these fellows promised to restore.  
You require of me, that our church as you call it, and yours may be set together and compared, that it may appear at the length, whether of them both is more established by the authority and doctrine of the Apostles. Your request is not reasonable. For I say not, that there is no spot of uncleanness at all amongst us. But I say and affirm, that it is very ill done of you, that those spots are not taken away amongst you by the diligence of your Apostles. We have promised nothing, we have not pleadged our faith and truth, that all things should be brought again to the old perfection by our diligence: no man can call us into the court, and charge us, that we have not stood to our promise. But these men, who, as you say, were sent from heaven, have taken this much upon them: to restore the purity of the Gospel, to bring again charity, holiness, continency, with that most earnest longing after the everlasting glory, to bring all other such virtues, as are contained in the word ofgod, to light, which were before buried in darkness, and to set up once again a heavenly common weal upon the earth.  
But that you may see, what courtesy and favour I will show you in this conflict, I will not require of you to examine and try your manners by the straight discipline of the Apostles, and by that exact rule of most holy and perfect religion: but to compare the state of this your Church with the gravity, virtue, religion, and worshipful behaviour of your ancestors: the which thing if I can entreat you to do, you shall understand that there is so great odds between your gospellishe doctrine, and the honourable religion of old England, as can not be expressed in words. Why then sir, what a thing is this? If you were never able, after the time that you gave your selves to these new and ungodly opinions, to reach to any part of the honour of your ancestors: by what means, I pray you, shall you be able to attain to that ancient perfection of the Church, which flourished in the Apostles days to the great wonder of the world? Are you so void of all wit and reason, that you think it enough to say, that your Church differreth nothing from the Apostles doctrine, as though men were bound by and by to believe you? No sir, that must be showed and proved, not by bragging and light behaviour, not by boasting and reproachful words, but by wonderful examples of justice, innocency, chastity, cleans, religion, and charity, by a most holy life, a most virtuous conversation, and a most fervent love of godliness. Yea, M. Haddon, I tell you once again, that it is not sufficient for them, that have promised to bring the lose manners of our time to that most flourishing state of the primitive Church, to be meanly virtuous: they must excel, they must be wonderful. The which thing because they do it not, but rather, wheresoever they put their foot, they leave the ground imbrued with much naughtiness and vice: it is very evident and plain, that they could not perform so much, as they had promised. For they have brought into the common weal, for the cleanness of the Gospel, fowl vices: for peace and love, debate: for modesty, pride: for religion, wickedness: for liberty, bondage: for good order, licentious living: for pleasant calmness, a most crewel storm. And yet you like a godly man lay before me the judgement of God, to make me afraid: in the which you say, that I poor wretch (for so it pleaseth you to term me) shall yield an account of this so heinous and wicked offence before the judgement seat of Christ, because I have presumed to rebuke those holy, continent and religious persons.  
In deed there is good cause, why I should fear. For M. Haddon a wise man, and such a one as hath familiar conference with God at all times, would never have said it, unless it had been declared unto him before, by some heavenly revelation. Reason would therefore, that I should tremble and quake for fear of that judgement, the which you yourself fear never a deal, and yet you threaten me very severely withal.  
You say, that I do not only laugh at your Gospel, and deface your Doctors, (which are very heavenly men) but also violently wrest Hieremie. The which thing how false it is, I will declare hereafter.  
You say afterward, that all that testimony of Hieremie concerning false Prophets pertaineth unto us. How so sir? Heard you ever say, that there was any new Prophet amongst us, that went about to turn us away from the ancient Religion? That warranted us of peace and joylity, as though he had had commission from Christ so to do? That taught the people, that sin should escape unpunished? You return once again to speak your pleasure by the holy Church, the ordre whereof I have already declared: in the which although there be some diseases, yet they are such as may be cured. For we refuse not the medicine, the which without the Church can not be found else where.  
After that you commend your own Church highly. The public fermons, say you, you commit to certain silly friars: and they declaim after their own fashion, in other matters they are doom. As touching preaching, I have said already, that this charge is in no wise to be neglected of the Bishops: neither doth the holy Church bear with such negligence: but rather exhorteth and chargeth all Bishop's most straightly, to follow the office of preaching and teaching with all diligence. And it is no reason, that the negligence of a few men should be imputed to the whole Church, the which is so careful to take good and wholesome ordre with every particular man, that he should do his duty. Moreover, there are, as I said before, many Bishops amongst us, the which preach oftentimes, and stir up their subjects to the love of godliness. But admit it were always so, that the sermons were made by Monks: doubtless it is more tolerable, that godly and religious persons should be appointed by the Bishops to do that office, than that base fellows, and such as are poisoned with most pestilent and erroneous doctrine, should be made rulers over Churches.  
Whereas you say, that at our sermons the audience is brought a sleep, I grant it must needs happen so sometimes, when he, that preacheth, can not be so eloquent and fine, as you are. What then? Because some man nappeth a little sometime, therefore shall not the rest awake themselves, and geave diligent ear to the sermon? shall no preacher be able to move and exhort his hearers to serve God with greater love and fervency?  
In the ministering of Sacraments, say you, the Priests only are doers, the rest are but lookers on. Of like you are not pleased with that. You have no liking in modest and seemly ordre. You would peradventure, that there should be made a disordre and confusion of offices, and that all men should take upon them the office of priesthood. But we think, that that comely ordre was ordained by God, that Priests only should minister the Sacraments, and that the rest should take the profit of them with silence, and not meddle themselves with the divine service.  
As concerning the unknown tongue, in the which the service is said, I ●●ue spoken sufficiently already: wherefore, because I will not repeat one thing often times, I refer you to those things, that are said before.  
Let us now enter, say you, into the masses, in the which you would have the very marrow of religion to be powered out. That is very true. For they contain in them a most servant lifting up of the heart unto God, most holy and devout prayers, the monuments and remembrances of Christ, which represent unto us his life, his passion, his death, and merits, the order and working of our salvation, and the appeasing of the displeasure of God. And (that I may say nothing else) in them is offered up the most holy body of Christ, the self same Sacrifice, that taketh away the unclean spots of sins, that yieldeth up thanks to our most mighty Lord and bountiful parent, that enkendleth godly minds, and inflameth devout hearts with the love of everlasting life and glory.  
You say moreover, that no man intermeddleth with the Gospel amongst us. You say well in that. For we can not abide, that every man should be a Reader, every man a Doctor, every man a Prophet. But we think it expedient to provide, that all things may be done honestly and orderly.  
Where you say, that all exhortations out of the Gospel are whisshed omongest us: that is false. For we have continual preaching, and there is expounded, what so ever concerneth salualtion, (not unlearnedly, nor yet unsavourly, as you imagine:) and the hearers keep silence after a very modest and comely sort.  
You come, say you, to the lords Table once per adventure every year, and that more for a solemn ceremony, then for a contrite heart. This guess of yours is very vain also. Truth it is, that all men are bound by law and order to come unto our lords Table once in the year: but such as do it but once in the year, are not wont to be commended. And amongst us there are of such as feast themselves at this heavenly banquet very often, an exceeding great number. Whereas you say, that it is done for a solemn ceremony only, and not for a contrite heart, you do but guess as your manner it. And for so much as your guess proveth false, it seemeth, that you may worthily be numbered amongst the false Prophets. When you say, that in this supper the supper of our Lord is not remembered of us, you speak with out the book, even as you did before. How be it, as touching the Supper of our Lord, I can not well tell, what to say to you. For as yet I am not perfectly informed, whether you follow the wicked opinion of your Martyr, or no. If you do follow him, with what reverence or trembling can you come to the Sacrament of the Altar, seeing that you believe, that there is none other thing in it, but only a naked and bare remembrance of the death, which Christ suffered upon the Cross for us? If you follow him not, wherefore do you not abhor and detest the naughty and wicked fellow?  
You find fault with us also, because we have no public or open confession of our sins amongst us. I would feign learn of you, how that sin, which is committed secretly, is to be confessed in the face of the world.  
I have, say you, declared your usage. You blamed me, because being unacquainted with the affairs of England, I declared such things, as are notoriouselie known and carried by letters, by talk, by most constant report of all men, into all Countries and Coasts, even to the furthermost parts of the world, to the great grief of all such as hear them: and yet you speak rashly of our matters, which you have neither seen, nor understood, (and therefore you use this word, peradventure) and as though you knew very exactly, all those things, which you have spoken, you say boldly, that you have declared our usage, and that very plainly.  
After that you turn again to the commendation of your Church. You speak much of your continual preaching, of the despising of man's traditions, of your Psalms, and Hymns, and Lawdes, with the which you honour the Lord. Anon after you say thus. Then followeth the holy table of the Lord, which is occupied every holy day. The minister of God calleth up all such as have prepared themselves to that so heavenly a banquet. Do you call that a heavenly banquet, the which your Martyr, whom you set out with heavenvly praises, went about to bereafe of all heavenliness? Furthermore you tell us not, how sober they are, when they come to this supper, how well they are clad with their marriage garment, with what examination with what fervency and wakeful diligence they prepare themselves unto it. And of your Minister you say never a word, by what means, with what ceremovie, after what ordre of Religion, by whom he came to that dignity.  
You talk much of the purity of your sermons, whereas in deed there can not possibly be any purity in such a corrupt and pestilent doctrine.  
Last of all you declare not, what ●ite this your religion bringeth. For you show us not your wonderful cha●…itie, your purity and holiness of life, your marvelous works of godliness and charity. And yet you say thus.  
I might in this place make an opposition ● comparison, lest I lacked words, wherewith I might, if I would, trim it and ●t it out. I would be glad to see you do it, M. Haddon. How great a praise had that been unto you, if you had laid together divers examples of hothe sides, and showed, how this church which you set forth so solemnly, is most like unto that ancient and primitive Church, which was dedicated by the blood of Christ, and instructed in the doctrine of th' Apostles, in upright and heavenly conversation, in innocenty, virtue, constancy lowliness, patience, chastity, in modest and seemly behaviour. If you had done this, you had dispatched the whole matter. Wherefore did you not bravely set out that opposition or comparison, which you speak of? Wherefore did you not set out to the world the worthy acts and holy works of your masters? Wherefore did you not cler● that point, in the which consisted the very ground and pith of the whole matter? I assure you, you had had the day of us, if you had declared, how much these new Prophets do pass in heavenly virtues, and had showed withal that there is no difference between them and the old Disciples of Christ. What, could a man of such a wonderful wit and singular eloquence, as you are of, lack words, in the defence of so true and so honest a cause as this is?  
But that conclusion of yours liketh me marvelously well. You say thus. A man may see more sorrowing and sighing in one holy Supper of the Lord, which our men do resort unto, then in six hundred of your solemn Masses. First of all if you think, that all Sacraments are to be ministered with tears and sighs, you are foully overseen. For there is a time of sorrow, and a time of gladness, as Solomon saith. Then it cometh to pass oftentimes that we may think of heavenvly things more earnestly and more attentiveli without sorrow then with sorrow. Last of all I would feign learn of you, what these your sighs do mean. Do they signify a desire and longing after the old Religion again? Or else serve they for a cloak to cover your new disguised Religion? Or else is there no such matter at all? For Erasmus and certain other learned men, have given this mark unto your Religion, that none of you all will once sigh, no not upon such days as are to be kept with tears and sorrow. And Luther himself, the foreman of all this rabble, he never wept nor sorrowed, at the remembrance of the bitter pains and torments, which Christ suffered for us upon the Cross. For he was a man fortified with incredible hardness, and a deadly enemy to weeping and tears.  
As for the diverse expositions of our Doctors, which you speak of, they are altogether impertinent to our matter. For there is no disagreeing omongest us in such matters as concern the ground of our faith and Religion. But to what end tend all these things, M. Waulter, to what purpose do you bring them? Be it, that these your solemnities be kept of you with so great pomp and ceremony, as you will yourselves: yet can I not see hitherto, that you have by these your solemn sacraments newly devised by the goodly wit of you and your companions, by this Religion set up with such diligence and provident carefulness, by these daily sermons, by this sighing and sorrowing, brought the Church to such a state, as your Masters promised you to do. Wherefore you must pardon me, if I require one thing of you many times, if I be to importunate in ask it. Restore, I say once again, restore unto us the purity of the Gospel, lai● abroad those goodly wares of heavenly virtues, set out to the world the notable lessons of this worthy Religion, that, when we see by your wonderful works and honourable deeds, that the mighty power of the holy Ghost is within you, we may be astonished seeing your miracles, and confess, that those Prophets, which taught you, were sent from God.  
Mark diligently, I pray you, what our Lord hath said as concerning a 
Deut. 18. d.  false Prophet. The Prophet, saith God, the which being seduced with pride, shall presume to speak in my name, the thing which I commanded him not to speak, or else shall speak in the name of other Gods, shall be put to death. If so be, that thou shalt think in thy heart, how may I understand the word which 
A mark to discern a false Prophet by.  our Lord hath spoken? Thou shalt● have this token. The thing, which that Prophet foretold in the name of our Lord, if it come not so to pass, our Lord spoke it not: but the Prophet devised it of a pride of his own heart, and therefore thou shalt not fear him.  
What thing can be more evident and plain, than this sign? What more providently spoken for our salvation? Being now warned and instructed by God, I give no ear to words, but I turn mine eye to works: I look to see, how faithfully these Ptophetes have fulfilled their promise. It remaineth therefore, that we consider, what Luther, Melanchthon, Bucere, Caluine and the rest of your Champions have promised and taken upon them, what hope they have brought their adherentes into by their goodly words. Doubtless they caused men to conceive this hope, that they would bring the doctrine of the Gospel to the old perfection, that they would set Religion up again, as it was at the first, that they would stai● up the Church, which tended to decay.  
Now this purity of the Gospel, this holiness of Religion, this sure stay of the Church, by what power and strength is it maintained? By faith, gentleness, chastity, peace, concord, lowliness, obedience, charity, godliness, and the great love of God. But they have brought into the world, for faith and religion, Church robbing: for gentleness, cruelty: for chastity, lose living: for peace, whourlibourlie: for concord, civil discord: for lowliness, pride: for obedience, contempt of lawful authority: for charity, bitter hatred towards all good men: for godliness, wicked impiety: for godly love, the utter decay of all such holy things as stirred us up to the love of God. They are therefore so much short of the performance of those things, which they have in large and ample manner promised, that they have rather by their labour and diligence so woorshipfullye employed, left all things, which they took upon them to reform and bring to the old perfection, in much worse case, yea much more depraved and disordered, then ever they were before. Wherefore these men were not sent from God. And so it is concluded by the Law of God himself, that they deserve no such commendations, as you geave them, but rather everlasting damnation.  
I demand of you once again.  
The virtue and purity of the Gospel, doth it consist in good works think you, or else in words? Doubtless if we believe our Lord himself, we must say, that it standeth rather in works, then in a goodly show of words. For so much therefore as these your Masters have confirmed this new Gospel, not by good works, not by working of miracles, not by continency of life, not by upright conversation, not by fervency of mind, not by burning desire, and longing after heavenly things, but by boasting and bragging words: is it not manifest, that they are not partakers of the kingdom of heaven? Is it not clear, that they were not sent from God? Is it not very evident, that they were false Prophets?  
But let us return unto jeremy. And first of all, where you say, that I would, for a certain pride, which is in me intolerable, be esteemed as one of God's privy counsel, I would feign learn of you, whereof you gather that. Heard you ever say, that I preached any new Gospel? that I professed any new doctrine, the which in the old time was never heard of? that I withdrew the people from the old faith and ancient order with goodly promises? that I maintained any opinion devised by mine own self so constantly, as though it had proceeded from God himself? No truly. What reason moveth you then to say, that I take this so great a name upon me, whereas in deed you see no token of such intolerable pride in me? You say afterward.  
You molest jeremy again, and will not suffer the reverend Prophet to take his breath. If I have molested the holy Prophet, I have committed no small offence against myself. But let us see, how you will prove it. You proceed thus. You allege these words of the Prophet. If they had stood in my counsel, and had openly declared my words unto the people, truly they had turned them from their evil way, and from their naughty devices. The words of the Prophet are very clear. I can not tell therefore how you go about by your words to make them dark. It followeth.  
Let us take our beginning out of jeremy, which was a worthy Prophet. You can say none other. If you could M. Haddon, I doubt you would do it. You go forward.  
Did he fray all the jews from vice? Did he bend them all to virtue? Mark well the whole ordre and process of his prophecy, considre the watling that he maketh, which is in deed very lamentable. Hitherto you reason, not against me, but against the most godly Prophet, to prove him a vain man: for you make him to speak contrarieties. He had said before, that the word of God was of such force, that it brought men from vice to virtue. He lamenteth afterward, that, although he were stirred up by the might and power of the word of God, yet he could not possibly bring the people from their wickedness. Wherefore he speaketh contrarieties, and disagreeth exceedingly with himself. As you did therefore in S. Paul, even so do you now. You improve not my saying, but you make the man of God to speak contrary to himself. But I say on the other side: that it may most easily be proved by this reason only, that you could not understand the meaning of the Prophet, because you think, that he dissenteth from himself. For it is not possible, that there should be any disagreement in the word of God, of the which jeremy was a minister. And yet you, to impugn more openly the meaning of the Prophet, you earnestly allege the example of S. Peter, yea and of Christ himself, by whose preaching, say you, not all such, as heard them, were frayed from their sin, vice, and wickedness.  
And at the length you go so far, that you affirm, that whereas one man yieldeth to the warning of God, an other doth not, it is not in the free will of every man, but that it was so ordained before the beginning of the world: and so you confirm again that fatal violence or necessity. And whereas you hear the complaint of our Lord himself, which is very lamentable, wherein he bewaileth the infidelity of the jews, which would not be received under his wings, being thereunto very mercifully moved: yet do you impute their damnation, not to the wickedness of the naughty men, but unto God as the author thereof. The which impiety of yours is already sufficiently confuted, (so much as the place required.) But neither you neither your masters do understand the Prophets: and therefore they imagine, that the Prophets should speak contrarieties.  
Think you, that God by jeremy gave that token to discern a true Prophet from a false: that all such, as were present at the sermons of a true Prophet, should forthwith be withdrawn from wickedness, the which thing the false Prophets could not do? If you imagine, that the Prophet spoke so, you are much deceived. For our Lord himself, by whose spirit all the holy Prophets were enkindled and stirred forward, speaking unto those men, that were obstinately bend in sin, that shut their eyes, and stopped their ears wilfully, that the light of heaven might not shine upon them, or the word of God move their hearts, made them not to forsake their wickedness. And therefore he complaineth of the Capharnaites, and such other as withstood his Doctrine very obstinately.  
What is that then, that Hieremie said? Dowbtles this. That such as believed the Prophets, such as had them in good estimation, such as took their sayings to be the very answers of God, (if those Prophets were sent from God) there is no doubt, but that they were easily brought from unbelief to faith, and from vice to an honest ordre of life. The which thing when it followed not, it was a most sure argument, that they were not sent from God. For example.  
Phasur the Priest was in high reputation. 
jer. 20. a.  He bent himself earnestly against Hieremie. Hananias desired to be called and esteemed as a Prophet. He was in like manner an enemy to Hieremie. Hieremie in those days threatened the people, that there hanged a great plague over them: but the other signified unto the people with many circumstances of words, that all should be well. Many men followed them, but very few followed Hieremie. Now sir, when there was such a great dissension between these two factions, by what token might a man discern, whether of them was sent from God? By the virtues and vices of such as followed either part. Therefore if it had been diligently marked at that time, that such as followed Phasur and Ananias, or other the like false and deceitful Prophets, proved never the better, but rather wallowed still most filthily in the self same vice, as they did before: might it not have been easily perceived, that those Prophets, unto whom they had addicted themselves, were not sent from God? And contrary wise if it had been noted, that those few which followed jeremy, which resorted unto him, which gave diligent ear unto his doctrine, did forsake sin, embrace godliness, and fear the judgements of God: they might have judged very well, that he was sent from God, and that the thing which he spoke came not from himself, but that he uttered such things only, as he had learned of God.  
Whereas therefore there were at that ●yme many men, whieh took upon them the name of Prophets, and said: thus saith our Lord: when in deed they had never heard the voice of our Lord: and clawed the common people and brought them in hope of a merry world, and said peace, peace, when no peace, that is to say, no great quietness, and abundance of things, but an extreme calamity hanged over the state of the jews, and the common people, whose eyes were wholly bend upon them, who esteemed them as men of God, were nothing the better for them, but continued still in as much wickedness, as they did before: doubtless it was evident, that those men were false Prophets and crafty crowders, and that they did poison such, as they took upon them to instruct, with pestilent errors.  
The like might be said of the time of Christ and his Apostles. There were Priests, and Pharisees, and Saducees, and Herodians, all contrary to the Doctrine of Christ. such, as followed Christ, and applied themselves with all diligence to learn his doctrine, withstood sin, and were inflamed with the desire of godliness and virtue: but such as followed the Priests of that time, and the Pharisees, were distained with many foul vices. By this token therefore it might be perceived, that Christ wrought by the holy ghost, and spoke the word of God: and that the Priests and Pharisees took a pride upon their own conceit which proceeded of an unsettled and undiscrete mind.  
We may say the like of the Apostles, who had much a do with false Priests and Philosophers, which were frowardly bend against the truth. For such as hearkened unto the Apostles, were beautifully furnished with the ornaments of true virtue: but such as went unto the contrary part, were clogged with most hei●ouses vices. Any man therefore, that was in his right wits, might well perceive by the testimony of Hieremie, that the Apostles were sent from God: and that their adversaries were moved and stirred forward by the enemy the devil.  
That this is the meaning of the Prophet, all men, which are not obstinately set in their own mad and frantic opinion, may see very plainly. For otherwise the wisdom of God, which spoke in the holy Prophet, should speak against itself: the which thing if a man should but once conceive it in his heart, it were a most● wicked sin, and horrible offence. We may now apply it unto these new Prophets.  
There was a certain worshipful Prophet, whom you think undoubtedly to have been sent from heaven. Many men went after him, and commended him highly, and guarded him both with their bodies and arms, and furnished him with their goods. I will therefore demand not of all, but of such only, as did not only love Luther as a bowntifull and helping man, but also esteemed and reverenced him as a Prophet sent from heaven, and received his doctrine most willingly both with ears and hearts: whether they were forthwith changed in heart, and whether they became any thing the better for it. No, they were rather made by the hearing of him much more presumptuous and proud, much more incontinent and seditious, much more despiteful and outrageous, yea so far forth, that Luther himself, which had schooled them, was not able to keep them in order. That therefore might have been a full proof, that Luther stood never in the counsel of God. For if he had stood in the counsel of our Lord, and had declared the very words of God unto such as followed him and were named after him, dowbtles there should have been seen some wonderful alteration of life in them.  
The like may be said of Melanchthon, Zwinglius, Bucer, and Caluine, and other the like Prophets. For these men were none such, as might by good example of their continent and honest conversation assuage the heat of incontinency in those that followed them: but rather out of their schools proceeded very often vicious and incontinent men: yea and not only incontinent, but also violent church-robbers, destroyers of good laws, wily practisers of treason against princes, fellows mischievously bend to deface all places of holiness and devotion by manslaughter, bloodshed and fire. Wherefore the teachers of this doctrine were not sent from God: for if they had been sent from God, doubtless they had turned those men, that honoured them as gods, from their wicked life.  
Moreover, for so much as there is no disagreement in the spirit of God, if they had been sent from God, there must needs have been a most perfect consent and agreement amongst them. But the world knoweth, that there is a most bitter dissension amongst them: wherefore it followeth necessarily, that they were not moved by the instinct and inspiration of the holy ghost, but driven with burning fire brands of the finds of hell, and that they applied themselves, not to instruct men, but to overthrow them.  
You say, that there is a marvelous goodly agreement amongst you. I speak not of you as now. For it may be, that you may by fear of punishment stay for a little time the fury of raging fellows, (the which remedy, when the mind is not well settled, can not endure long.) But of others, see you not, how great dissension there is amongst them, that sprang of Luther? See you not, how they fall out about words? How they altar and change their opinions? How confusely, doubtfully, and intricately they speak? With what fond reasons they labour in vain to prove that thing, which they are bend to maintain: in so much that they can neither agree with other men, neither yet within themselves? They chop and change their Creeds, they affirm now one thing and now an other, they are established in no one opinion. They can never agree within themselves, to whom they may refer the determination of dowbtes.  
You refer the matter to your parliament (as you term it): or else to your babbling Bucerans, as the Bishop of Angra not unsittely termeth them. divers men refer the decision of questions in religion to divers Confessions of the faith, which are wont now and then to be altered and changed. Think you, M▪ Haddon, if, as I do now reason with you in writing, so I might be present with you, and press you with words, and wind you to and fro by the force of arguments, that you were able to stand to your tackelinges? No without dowbt. But you would devise a hundred divers shifts of descant to face out the matter, and seek out all the starting holes and blind corners in the world: in such sort, that it might easily appear, that neither your tongue, neither yet your wit were in perfect good plight. Howbeit one poor shift you would find, (which is a singular good help to you in all your distresses) that is, to brawl, chide, schold and revile. You say afterward.  
That you may acknowledge the authority of this Church, if you dowbt of it, I refer you to the Apology. I know you have written an Apology, wherewith you labour to set out your Church marvelously. If you have written it more wittyly and finely, than this book, which you set out against me, surely you have done me great wrong. For you made light of me, and therefore did not vouchsafe to put out the uttermost strength of your eloquence, when you encountered with me. If you use the like stile and the like arguments, that is to say, if you contend with the like arrogancy and reproachful language: I have not so much time to spare, that I will desire to take it once in my hands. For you define nothing, you speak▪ nothing sincerely, you conclude nothing by good argument. You say at the length.  
Confute it if you can. But you can not. That was very arrogantly spoken. Who hath made you so lofty and high spirited? Your eloquence? Or else the love of the truth? If you trust to your eloquence, you are a very babe. If you bear yourself upon the truth, you imagine many things to be true, that are not.  
You say, that one hath barked against your Apology. I have not read it, and yet I know, that your Apology, which, you say, can not possibly be confuted, is already excellently well confuted, by a man of much gravity, godliness, and learning. which thing you deny.  
But this lesson have you learned of your masters: who being openly convinced, fall a crying, being set a gogge, keep a raging stir: and when they are able to say nothing to the ground of the matter, they heap together many words without order and besides the purpose, and yet they vaunt themselves amongst their adherentes beyond all measure and modesty. But I regard not your bravery and justiness, I esteem not your haughty and proud vaunts: I weigh the truth, reason and arguments. And such is the nobleness of this your Island, the glory and renown of your kingdom so bright, that neither can any vice lie hidden in it, neither yet any virtue unknown.  
Wherefore you labour but in vain to conceal that thing, which is every where constantly reported. What you say touching the immortality of souls, I wot not. I never said, that your masters denied the immortality of souls. Howbeit I am not ignorant, by what degrees or steps men are wont to climb up unto the highest point of that most detestable opinion.  
Whereas you say, that there hath been many men amongst you, which have confirmed the truth of the gospel by banishment, nakedness, hunger, yea by shedding their blood and yielding their lives: I grant it. For so did the Bishop of Rochester, so did Moor, so did the holy Carthusians (to pass over a numbered of others) these men died a most honourable death for the glory of Christ. So do your holy Bishops, whom you have defeated of their goods deprived of their dignities, and cast into prisons. So do we see many others, Bishops, Priests and Monks, very godly and religious persons, driven out of England and Ireland, living like banished men and outcasts: the which, if they had not been able to escape out of your clammes, had peradventure been put to a most orewel death, by the ministers of this your Gospel.  
If you mean any other of your men, hear what S. Cyprian saith: that, such as being without the bounds of the Church, do suffer death for the glory of Christ, they do not receive the Crown of martyrdom, but bear the punishment for their unbelief. If they therefore, that break up the enclosure of the Church, and separate themselves from it, although they yield their blood and lives for the Religion of Christ, which the Church holdeth, are not to be accounted as Martyrs, but as naughty packs and Church robbers: what is to be thought of such, as being without the Church, are not ashamed to spill their blood and lives in the main tenance of rebellion and ungodliness?  
I am now come to that place, which is by you, (who are a man naturally abhorring the slighty occupation of flattery and lying) very clerkly handled. Your words are these.  
You confess that you have gone further in the matter, than you had thought to do. Truth it is, that you have gone a great deal further, than it became you to do: especially in the most learned and prudent ears of the queens Majesty, whose sharp wit and judgement you would have been afraid of, if you had well weighed with yourself, how much pitthinesse there is in her. O right excellent Sir Waulter, you appear now in your own likeness. Tell me, I pray you, do you not see, that excessive praysing● doth not advance the dignity of Princes, but rather utterly pervert their mind and judgement oftentimes? Do you not know, that the most fine and sharp wit, loveth truth, and abhorreth exceedingly all lying and flattery? For what other thing is it to praise Princes excessively, but to set them out to the world as mocking stocks? Truly if your Queen be so witty, as I may well think she is, not by your talk, but by the report of other men, she will turn you out of her court and company as an open and detected flatterer, and will not suffer herself to be most impudently mocked of you.  
If you set out her wit, if you commend her knowledge in the Latin ●nd Greek tongue, if you praise her courtly grace and comeliness of speech, i● is well done. But when you make her no mean Divine, when you advance her wit so much, as though I ought to be terribly afraid of it, you assault her Majesty by very wily and crafty means. Is this your loyalty? Is this the part of a kind heart, mindful of the benefits bestowed upon you? Is this well done, that a most noble Queen, a Princess endued with most excellent wit and singular qualities, should be gibed and scorned of you, M. Haddon, who have, as you say yourself, been fostered and brought up by her Majesty? Did you so little esteem her judgement, that you thought her meet to make your laughing stock? To pull her down from the settled stay of her mind by your clawing and flattery? To deceive her for your gain and lukers' sake?  
If, when you set for this booty, you had made your entry more covertly, your fowl flattery needed not to have been repelled with so great enforcement. For a man might have thought, that you had misdowbted the sharpness of the Queen's wit, and therefore had devised to undermine secretly, that you might the better have scaled the fort, which you have desired to take.  
But now, whereas you mock so openly, ascribing unto her majesty, such comen dabble qualities, as can not possibly stand, neither with her age, neither with her nature, as being a woman, neither with her tender and delicate body, neither yet with her estate, (which is otherwise employed to weighty and careful affairs): is it not manifest, that you make light of her wit? Do you so recompense the benefits which you have received of her bowntifulnesse? If she be so wise as you make her to be, if she have so many excellent virtues, as I desire her Majesty to be always decked and beautified withal: the moderate praises, which I geave her, she will accept with good heart; but that immoderate flattery of yours she will refuse and reject: neither will she suffer herself to be mocked of such presumptuous fellows to the great abatement of her estimation and honour.  
As touching the quietness of things, which you talk of at large, I say this much. It is the part of a mad man, yea of one, that is ignorant of the common frailty of man, to trust to much in prosperity, and not to cast long time before by causes passed, such adversities, as peradventure hang over his head. Moreover, there can be no quietnosse, where the faith of the holy Church is shut out. For the mind is troubled, yea and oftentimes shaken quite out of the hengies, by the remorse of sin, the which the most presumptuous and bold fellows in the world are not able to suppress, (although many are able to dissemble it).  
As for the comparison of your Church with the Primitive Church, which you say may be confirmed by the Histories, I say that, either you have not read the Histories, or else you are passed all shame. You should have brought some example or testimony out of the Histories, with the which you might overcharge us. But you can never do it, forsomuch as all the antiquity maketh against you.  
Whereas you say, that your nobility is very well agreed, would God it were so: but it is otherwise reported commonly. I pass over many things of purpose, partly because they are nothing to the purpose, and partly because they are already confuted before. But whereas you say these words: Ah be not disquieted gentle Sir: I acknowledge your pleasant manner of speech. As for your heavenly kindred, of the which you say, you are very desirous: you do well in it. But I would you had some other men of this stock and kindred, more skilful interpreters of the law of God. Then how wittily was that spoken of you?  
Wherefore say you, that men have been carried away by us from that most ancient and holy Religion, which was ground upon the blood of jesus Christ, and hath continued always one even until our days, and that they have been trained in an other Religion, which is most cursed and detestable?  
Then you add, Do you believe these things, as you have spoken them? No trnely do you not. These things were very merrily spoken of you, M. Haddon. Doubtless your pleasant girds proceed of ameruelous wit: especially when yond think yourself to be cock sure. For then, as though your discourse had escaped the rocks, you pleasure very much to sport and dally.  
But whereas you say, that I do not believe those things which I have said, you are foully deceived. For I do both believe and confess them, neither shall the outrage and unbridled wilfulness of a sort of rascal varlets ever bring me from the constant confession of my faith. What arguments of yours think you, to be of such force, that they might cause a man, which is in his right wits, not to believe that, that is confirmed by the testimony of holy Scriptures, by authority of the holy Fathers, by the records of all the antiquity? You say, afterward.  
For in the old and best time of the Church, neither was their any Popedom, neither leaden redemption for sin, neither the mart of Purgatory, neither woorsshippinge of Images, neither running up and down to visit Saints, neither offering in the Masses for the live and for the dead, with other like. These shameful points, which do disshonest Religion, at what times they crope in, and by whom they were devised, you are not ignoraunie. But you dissemble it, to serve the ears of your company.  
Belke out M. Haddon, strain yourself, as much as you can, rid your stomach of this surfeicte, of most barbarous fury and rage: cast up your poison, spew out your venom: and then shall you openly triumph amongst your companions with this peevish and vain talk. When you have said nothing, proved nothing, alleged no true testimony of the antiquiquitie: when you have brought nothing else but railing for argument, madness for reason, impudency for true examples: you keep such a raging stir, as though you had already won the field with great honour.  
But we on the other side are wont to declare, by authority of the holy Scriptures, by testimonies of the holy Fathers, by fetching the Monuments and Records of all the Antiquity, finally by reason, by use, by experience, by a number of examples, that this kind of government hath always been in the Church: and that, who so ever goeth about to appair it, is a breaker of peace, an overthrower of Religion, a worker of sedition, a puller down of the Church, which is one, and a fettor up of divers and sundry churches, diversly sundered and divided within them selves, a bringer in of infinite most filthy vices, and trowblesome errors.  
As for the mart of Purgatory, which you speak of, we answer you, that there is no such thing. If at any time in so many hundred years there hath been any buying and selling of holy things used, the holy Church alloweth it not, but banisheth it out of the bounds of the Christian common weal, as a most pestilent and pernicious abuse.  
Likewise of Images, we say, that all we, that live in the holy catholic faith, are able to prove both by reasons, arguments, and examples, that even from the primitive church, (especially after it might be done for tyrants) there hath been Images set up in churches, to the everlasting remembrance of virtue, to move men to godliness and religion, to the glory and honour of Christ, the which is seen in the wonderful virtue of holy men. We say moreover that the error of those men, that threw down Images, was condemned by many authorities of the holy Fathers, by divers decrees of general counsels: the which thing your masters, be they never so shameless, can not deny, unless they will first burn all the writings of holy fathers, all histories and records, all the decrees of general Counsels.  
What should I here reason of the reverence and honour, which was of old time given unto saints? Can you never spare a little time from the fine works of Accursius, to bestow in the reading of Gregory Nazianzene, Basile the Great, Jerome and Ambrose? If you could do it, you should see it in their books, how many times godly persons came together in the old time, what resorts and assemblies there were made, what eloquent Orations were pronounced in the commendation of Saints, how great multitude of the common people pressed thither to hear them. But now, if I would show you, with what fervent zeal and devotion very many men were wont to continue all night at the Tombs of Martyrs, it were a hard matter to express it.  
None of all the holy Bishops in those days, did once put back the common people from hearing the commendation of Martyrs: no man dissuaded them from that most earnest devotion towards the Saints: no, they did rather exhort all such as were present, to visit their Monuments, to praise and honour them, to observe and keep such worship, as was dew unto them. For they saw in those assemblies, when the name of Martyrs was set out with heavenly praises, that not the nature of the body, but the grace of God, and the almighty power of Christ himself was duly honoured in them. For if the Christian men in those days kept the signs of the holy Cross, and the Images of Saints, which were of devotion set up in Churches, with such reverence: if they were oftentimes put in mind by those signs to pluck up their hearts, and to remember the virtue which those dumb Images did represent: was it not much more convenient, that the lively Images of Christ should be honoured with greater fervency, and that all such as served God truly and heartily, (to do this honour the better) should visit the Tombs of Martyrs, and Churches builded in the honour of them? And is it not evidently seen, that the Saints are by the operation of the holy Ghost shapen to the likeness of God and that they bear a very true and express Image of Christ?  

Purgatory proved by Luther.  As touching your pastime that you make with Purgatory (for you must needs have a snatch at every thing) can there be brought any graver testimony against you, then that, which the man, that was sent (as you say) from heaven, hath given openly? Who is that say you? It is that Luther, whom you honour and reverence, whom you make a God, whom you affirm to have been borne for your salvation. He said more than once or twice, and abid by it, that there was a Purgatory, and that he did not ween, think, or believe it, but certainly know it to be so. For proof whereof, he constantly alleged that place of S. Matthew, 
Matt. 12. c.  where Christ said, that the sin of such, as did wilfully resist the testimony of the holy Ghost, should never be forgiven, neither in this world, neither yet in the world to come: by the which words it is signified, that some hope of forgiveness is mercifully showed by God unto many men even in the world to come.  

●. Macab. ●2. g.  He alleged also that place out of the Maccabees, where judas made oblations for the sins of such as were departed. With these and other the like arguments and allegations he was earnest to prove that there was a Purgatory.  
How then? If Luther said there was a Purgatory, and you will warrant it, that Luther was sent from God: and, if he were sent from God, so long as he was in that embassage, he could not lie: it is manifestly proved by his authority, (the which you may not gainsay) that there is a purgatory. If there be no purgatory, Luther lied. If Luther lied, he was not sent from God, but from him, that is the father of lying. Choose therefore whether you like better. For either the authority of Luther shall confirm, that there is a purgatory, or else the feigned tale of purgatory, (as you term it) shall convince Luther of vanity and madness.  
But he afterward denied purgatory. That is no wonder. For not only he, but all his offspring say now one thing, and now an other: they correct and alter many things, neither can they stay themselves in any one degree, but rather when they have once begun an error, they heap and increase it with a numbered of other errors.  
But I would feign learn of you M. Haddon: whether of these two opinions, which are maintained both by Luther, think you to be the truer? The later, say you. Well then the former he received not of God. Then was he not as yet sent from God. But after he had distained himself with incestuous wedlock, after he had alured his contrei men to rebellion, after he had defied chastity and all holiness, after he had stirred up such broil and sedition in the common weal, that he could not appease it himself afterward, when he had railed against the state of the church with most reproachful and shameful language, when he had uttered most horrible and devilish blasphemy, when he had wasted, spoiled, and burned all holy things, when he had committed all these outrages and villainies: then was he thought a meet man to be taken into gods pricuie counsel, and a person worthy, to whom God, besides all other secrets, should mercifully reveal that mystery also of the devising of purgatory. Then did this great wise man understand at the length, that S. Augustine, which held that we should pray unto God in our Sacrifices for the dead: that S. Cyprian, which laid this most grievous punishment upon such, as appointed Priests in their testament to be tutors or governors to their children, that there should no sacrifice be offered up for them in the churches: that S. Chrysostom, which referred this ordinance to the tradition of the Apostles: that S. Device (to pass over a numbered of others) which wrote very diligently of the care, that is to be had for the departed in the faith, and of prayers, that are to be made unto God for their deliverance: Luther, I say, understood, from heaven that all these men had been in great error and folly.  
Truly the captain of this your faction had a great commodity of his naughtiness and folly, if, after the raising of such broils and troubles in the world, he was delivered by the benefit of God from that error, in the which those holy Fathers, most Godly and wise men, excellently well learned in the Scriptures, linked unto Christ with a most straight band of heavenly love were quite drowned.  
If no man can thus persuade himself, unless he be peevish, frantic and stark mad, void not only of all godly religion, but also of common sense: who doth not see that this opinion of Luther is wicked and detestable, taught and set out by none other, then by the enemy the devil.  
But this, say you, is not witten in the scripture. What then? The thing, which the Apostles taught by word of mowth, which their scholars delivered to the posterity, which hath been most constantly holden and believed from the primitive Church till our times, which hath been approved by the belief and full agreement of the whole Church for so many hundred years, shall Luther a seditious mad selowe, after so many ages garishly avouch it to be a feigned matter? Shall men, which take upon them to be both Godly and religious, follow him as a God of heaven, that attempteth most desperately to assault heaven? For he maketh war against heaven, which taketh up armour against the faith of the Church.  
No, no, say you, you would not think, what manner of man he was. For he, I tell you, would allow nothing, unless he found it written in the holy scriptures. Well sir, I will not now handle that matter, which is by the holy Fathers discussed long a go: how the gospel consisteth not only in things written, but also in customs and ordinances received without any writing, delivered unto the Church by word of mowth and order of the Apostles: how much the sure and grounded 
1. Tim. 3. c.  authority of the Church, which is the pillar and stay of truth, is to be esteemed: of how great value and importance the agreement of all holy men in one mind without any variety ought to be: all these things I will now omit, and ask you one question, how Luther, when he said there was a purgatory, to prove it, alleged the testimonies of the holy scripture, if there were no testimony in the scripture, that proved that there was a purgatory?  
Then again when he said, that there was no Purgatory, by what testimony of the Scripture thought he, that Purgatory might be utterly disproved? Brought he any one place, by the which he might convince that there is no Purgatory? Dowbtlesse not one. Such therefore was his presumption, that, what so ever came into his head, that would he constantly affirm: and again, the self same thing, if it misliked him, would he utterly deny.  
And yet his disciples for sooth find no fault at all, neither with his inconstancy, neither yet with his lewd fashions: but what so ever the drowsy blowbol draveled out over his pots, that took they up so griedily, as though it had been good gospel.  

Purgatory.  But lest you should say, that it can not be showed by the testimony of the scripture, that there is a purgatory, although it be not necessary, yet, besides those places, which are wont to be alleged for the proof thereof, I think it good to bring a few: of the which that is one of S. Mark: where our Lord, when he had said, that hell (into the which all such shallbe thrown down, as esteem more their bodily pleasure, than their duty towards God) should have this property, that the worm of them, that shall be tumbled down headlong into it, should never die, and their fire never be quenched: he brought in 
Marc. 9▪ g  forthwith these words: for every man shallbe seasoned in fire, and every sacrifice shallbe seasoned in salt. In this place there are two things to be noted. One is, that there is a worm, that is to say, a vexation or torment of conscience gnawing and molesting the mind, the which shall have an end: and that there is a torment of fire also, the which in like manner shall have and end in some men. For otherwise our Lord would never have 
isaiah. 66. a  brought that place out of isaiah: their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched. By the which place we are taught, that there is one torment everlasting, and an other that lasteth but for a time. For so much therefore as this worm and fire is a torment or vexation of mind, and of torments there is one, which is appointed by the judgement of God to last but a time, and the other to continue for evermore: is it not evidently proved, that there is a purgatory? (for so is the place of punishment called, in the which by the sentence of God the souls are purged within a certain time of such spots of venial offences, as they had gathered in this life.)  
another thing worthy to be noted is this, that no sin shall escape unpunished. For even as in the old law it was not lawful to offer up any Sacrifice without salt, so is it not lawful for our souls to approach unto the throne of God's majesty, unless their uncleanness be before cleansed by salt and fire, that is to say, by the rigour of God's judgement, and by dew punishment: that, when all the spots of unclean affection be put out and quite consumed, the faithful souls may come to have such a purity and clearness, that they may be able to receive the brightness of God in themselves, and be likened and conformed to the glory of God. For although by the mercy of God sin is taken quite away in such as stay themselves upon a lively saith, yet are they for the most part so bound with some knot of the law, that they must needs satisfy the justice of God. For almighty God is merciful, but so●, that he is not unmindful of his justice: he is also just, but in such sort, that in the ministering of his severe judgement he showeth many points of great mercy.  
Moreover this purity or cleanness, which is gotten by the grace and benefit of Christ, hath certain degrees, so, that he that is clean, may be yet cleaner, and come unto a clearer knowledge of the nature of God. And the increase of this cleanness consisteth in salt and fire, that is to say, in such punishment, as is appointed to purge the remnants of sin: that the Sacrifice may be purer and holier and more acceptable to God. Wherefore it is necessary, that the Sacrifice, which is to be offered up unto God with such rites and orders, as are appointed by Christ our high Priest, be first cleansed, yea and perfectly well purged, by laying on some punishment upon sin, either in this life, or else in the life to come. For even as God, when he pardoned David, quited him not of all 
2. Reg. 12. d.  punishment, (for he lost afterward his son, and was chased out of his kingdom by the heinous treason of his son Absalon, and his house was dishonoured in the face of the world) in like sort, although God forgeaveth sins, yet, that notwithstanding, he will require some penance, that there may be made a satisfaction or amends for the offence committed. The which satisfaction resteth not in the weight or estimation of itself, but in the infinite merit of Christ. For otherwise there should be no end of punishment, for so much as the offence was endless: in so much as the majesty of God was offended, (which is endless.)  
Unto this penance, which is to be abiden of all such, as have not thorughly purged the uncleanness of their 
1. Pet. 4. d  sins in this life by due labours, looked S. Peter, when he said, that the just should hardly be saved, wherefore the wicked were far from that, that they could assure themselves of salvation. That there is a most certain hope of salvation offered unto the just, he denieth not: but that it is given, unless they take great pains and travail before, that he denieth utterly.  
S. Peter again in the self same epistle, to teach us, that the entrance unto salvation is not shut up to the 
1. Pet. 3. d  dead, saith, that Christ preached the gospel to those souls, that were in custody or ward. He saith not, that Christ going down to hell declared that joyful and glad tidings to the holy Fathers only, but also to men which were committed to ward, that is to say, to men which were shut up in prison for offences committed. And left it might be thought, that those men, whom Christ at that time instructed with a more clear and exact knowledge, had been before utterly void of ●aith, he added: Such as had been some 
Ibide●.  time unbelieving. And again lest some man might suspect, that that sentence had been spoken by them, the which, although they had sometime committed some offences, yet had spent the greatest part of their life in faith and religion, he saith: that the gospel, that is to say, the tidings of everlasting salvation was brought to them, which in the days of Noah made light of the counsel and advertisement of the holy man: the which notwithstanding, (before they were consumed in the flood) were better advised, and got pardon of their sins and offences: but yet so, that for their long offence, they suffered in hell a long penance. Out of the which place it is gathered by the authority of S. Peter, that such, as repent themselves in like manner of their unclean and sinful living in the end of their life, and departed out of this body with a burning faith, shall after the same fashion be kept in prison, until they have suffered such punishment as God hath appointed, and until being more clearly instructed in the things appertaining to God, (in the which instruction and receiving of the light standeth, as S. Denyse saith, the some of the purgation) they may be carried up into those joyful dwelling places of heaven.  
S. Paul also writing to the Corinthians, saith. What shall they do, which 
1. Cor. 15. d.  are baptised for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? Wherefore are they baptised for them? To be baptised in in this place, is to offer up himself as a satisfactory or purging Sacrifice to wash and cleanse the spots of souls. Whereupon our Lord him 
Luc. 22. ●  self showed, that he was very sore pained with the earnest desire that he had of baptism, that is to say, of that most wholesome washing, wherein he should offer up himself a Sacrifice upon the Altar of the Cross for 
Mat. 2●. ●  the sins of mankind. And of the two brethren, which sought to have the highest room with him in his kingdom, he demandeth, whether they be ●eady to bear him company in the same baptism. To be baptised therefore for the dead is nothing else, but to honour God with some purging Sacrifice or offering for the salvation of the dead, and to offer up with good heart even the Sacrifice of our body for their salvation.  
The which thing S. Paul did, as it appeareth, not only for the dead, but 
1. Cor. 15. d.  also for the living. For immediately after he saith thus. Wherefore do we also put ourselves in jeopardy every day? I do die daily for your glory, which I have in our Lord jesus Christ. By the which place it may be gathered, that S. Paul, so o●ten as he adventured his life for the state of the holy Church, so often did he administer the Sacrament and Sacrifice of this baptism: the which thing he did then 
2. Tim. 4. ●.  most worthily, when he died a most honourable death for the glory of Christ and salvation of all men. For he said, that he was to be offered up as a Sacrifice, at that time especially, when death, by the which he should be delivered out of the prison of his body, approached near. By the which place it is evidently proved, that many other also have offered up most holy Sacrifices for the dead, that is to say, for the salvation of the dead. The which thing if it were always done in vain, then might it be concluded, that such, ●s are dead, should never return again to live.  
But now, for so much as it was not done in vain, (for otherwise S. Paul would never have borne withal) it followeth necessarily, that prayers made for the salvation of the dead are not superfluous, and that the souls of such, as are departed this life, are helped by the prayers, vows, and Sacrifices of the living. The which souls so departed, for so much as they ●re neither buried in everlasting darkness (for then could they not get out by any man's prayers) neither yet placed in heaven (for there should they not need any man's prayers) it followeth, that they be in some other place, which we are wont to call purgatory.  
Many other things might be spoken to this purpose. Many things have been very well alleged of divers godly and holy men to confirm this matter: but if there had been no such thing, yet the faith of the holy Church, which hath always continued undefiled even from the Apostles time till our days, might have sufficed us abundantly. But you, when you see most evident testimonies, when you are not able to shift our arguments, when you are convinced by the authority of the holy Fathers, when you may see the agreement of the whole Church, yet will you of an uncredible stubborness continue in the wicked opinion, which you have once taken.  
What shall I here say of prayers and vows made in Sacrifice for the live and the dead? Is there any time, in the which it is not lawful for Christian men to use charity, the perfection of whose Religion resteth in charity? Can there be devised any greater deed of charity then that, wherein we pray unto God most servantly for the salvation of our brethren? Is there any time more meet and convenient to do this holy work, then that is, when we go about to appease the majesty of God, not with the Sacrifice of brute beasts, but with the body and blood of Christ? Is there any thing more agreeable to the order of our Religion, which do believe, that such as depart out of this mortal body with true faith, do not die, but live, then to join them with such, as remain in this life: and to pray unto Christ, which was offered up for us, both for the living, as also for them, that are departed out of this life?  
Call you this godly point of Religion, this holy work of most fervent charity, this wholesome Sacrifice offered up not only for us, but also for our brethren, unto whom we are knit with an everlasting band of love, call you this, I say, the dishonesty of Religion? Is this no outrage? Is this no madness? Is this no impudency?  
To refuse lawful authority, to break the ancient ordre of the Church, to deflower holy virgins, to rob good matrons of their chastity, to cancel the very remembrance of of virtue, Religion, and justice, to quench the love of honesty and gentleness, to profane and rob Churches, to take holy men, and some to murder, some to spoil and put to all the villainy in the world, some others to banish out of their country, to awrecke the malice your bear towards godliness upon the relics of Saints, to vaunt yourselves like hellhounds in the waste and sack of holy things, shall this be accounted as honest and glorious, shall this be esteemed as a matter worthy of immortal commendation and praise? And to be bound to obey authority grounded upon the commandment and ordinance of Christ, to conserve the band of peace and concord, to honour and reverence the justice and mercy of God joined together in one, to call to remembrance the goodly monuments of holiness, to offer up that most holy and noble Sacrifice (the virtue whereof we can neither express with words, neither yet conceive in heart) for the living and the dead, and for the good estate of the whole Christian common weal: shall this be such a dishonesty as may not be borne? And yet you are not afraid to call all these things the dishonour of Religion, and to say, that I am not ignorant, by whom these things are cropen in, but that I dissemble it to serve the ears of my companions.  
Of like, Sir, all these things, which you mislike, and call the dishonesty of Religion, were devised and brought in, by brothels and bawds, or else by such fellows, as serve the belly, lust, or unsteadfastness of the people for their commodities sake, and not by the spirit of Christ, and by most continent and holy men, in whom was the spirit of Christ. But you are never able to prove that you say. For both reason and the testimony of all antiquity, as also the authority of holy Fathers do urge and press you, yea and convince you of impudency: but we have put back the violent push of this your ungodliness and malice, with arguments most sure, with testimonies most grave, with examples most true.  
Whereas you say, that I speak otherwise then I think, to serve the ears of my companions, I see well, you are well acquainted with my behaviour. I am like to be such a man, as would spend my time with all diligence to learn to flatter, and to write, not what I think, but what I imagine may be best liked of my companions. I beseech Christ the judge of the living and of the dead, if I writ not, in matters concerning Religion, those things which I think, which I judge to be true, which I believe assuredly, that he suffer me not to enter into that most glorious and everlasting City of heaven, and that he let me not to have the joyful fruition of his own light and brightness for evermore.  
For what is the Popedom else, but a ministration of an authority, which is lawful and ordained by God? What is our belief of Purgatory, but a declaration of God's justice and mercy together? What is the honour given unto Saints, but a reverent consideration of the work of God, in the which appeareth the almighty power and bountifulness of God much more, then in the making of heaven, yea or in all the works of nature. What are the prayers made in our Sacrifice for the living and the dead, but a work of most perfect holiness, of most excellent Religion, of most servant charity?  
These be dishonest points, which you have taken a way. There is good cause, why you should glory in it, and have your name recorded with honour to all the posterity. for you have brought in, for obeying of holy and lawful authority, rebellion: for the fear of purgatory, a rash affiance of licentiousness unpunished: for dew worshipping of Saints, the contempt of holiness and justice: for the religious observation of the most holy sacrifice, and charitable behaviour of men, a despising of religion and forgetting of charity: yea moreover and this, you have brought in a scornful laughter exceeding all modesty, together with a saucy talk passing all civility. Are these things comely, M. Haddon? Are these things honourable? Are these things to be commended? Are these things to mabe a show of?  
But you say, that the Bishops of Rome keep wars, that in Rome is kept a market of purgatory, that holy things are there set out to sale, that many men are to much encumbered with superstition in the worshipping of Saints, that Priests live not very continently, and that they abuse their sacrifices now and then to their lucre and gain.  
First of all as touching wars you must think, that we can not of reason and equity condemn all wars. For they are some times begun for the defence of Religion, and maintenance of a just cause.  
As for the buying and selling of holy things, if in so many hundred years some such matter have ben used, it is no wonder. For (as you say yourself) it can not be chosen, but that sometimes in the good corn there will grow some weeds. And if any such abuse have been, it is now taken quite away.  
If superstition trouble men's minds now and then, it is very easily taken away by the labour and diligence of Bishops. The vicious and unclean life of Priests is very severely punished. And there are at this time amongst us a great many more of them, that live very continently, then of such, as will distain themselves with vicious and unclean living.  
Last of all, to pass over all other, the virtuous, godly, and religious example of this most holy Pope Pius the fifth, (whom neither ambition, neither covetousness, neither the favour of the people, neither yet the rashness of men, but the holy Ghost hath placed in this room of high honour and dignity) bringeth to pass, that all things wax better and better every day, and that very many are stirred to the love of true godliness.  
But admit there were no such matter at this time, as I talk of: admit that all went to nought, and that there were no man to reform the church where it is decayed: should it be well done by and by to everthrow all such things, as have been wisely ordained, so soon as men do abuse them to naughtiness? No truly: but rather to provide, as near as we may, that holy things may no more be abused. For otherwise all would decay, and there would follow a marvelous disorder and confusion of things in the Church.  
If you, as you have for the misbehaviour of a few monks (as you say) taken quite away the whole order, and for the lewdness of certain Pristes' overthrown the dignity of Priesthood, and authority of bishops: so you would proceed, (for it standeth with as good reason as the other doth) and for the default of a Magistrate, or Prince, or King, which hath not done his duty, take away the orderly government of the common weal, together with the Kingly honour and authority: the world should come again to that confusion, which (as the poets report) was, before that nature was disposed and set in comely order. For what thing is so holy, the which men may not abuse sometimes to do much harm and mischief? For, that we may go no further, wedlock itself, (which you prefer before perpetual virginity) is it always kept in such chaste, godly, and religious order, as it ought to be? Do the husband's never look besides their wives? Do the wives never beguile their husband's? Are there no advowtries committed now and then among? yes questionless are there: and many fowl and shameful acts are done of married men oftentimes, with great rashness and impudency. Shall we therefore, for the lewd demeanour of some married persons, break the band of man and wife, and take away the holy state of lawful wedlock? No truly. For than would men and women run unto it without order, and there would be no difference between them and brute beasts. Wherefore although all our doings were void of all good order, honesty, and religion: yet are not such things, as have been for a most godly purpose devised and ordained, forthwith to be disannulled, but rather order would be taken, that things, which are amiss, might be amended. Neither are such things, as may be cured, to be cut of: neither yet, if the festered and corrupt parts of the body must needs be pared of, is it necessary for that to destroy the whole body, which may be recovered: neither is the state of a common weal to be altered, so soon as any disorder happeneth in it, but rather reason would, that all such matters, as are decayed, should be brought again to that comely order, in the which they were at the beginning.  
Aristotel telleth, that there was a certain man called Hippodamus of Milesium, which wrote of a common weal. Amongst other matters he reciteth a law of his, by the which he decreed, that a great reward should be given out of the common treasure to him, that could devise any law profitable for the common weal. This decree Aristotel misliketh. For he thinketh, that there would be an end in making of laws, because the often 
Often changing of laws dangerous.  changing of them is wont by little and little to bring them into contempt: and the laws being once despised, the good estate of a common weal can not long continue. Wherefore that excellent learned man counseleth all such, as make laws, to foresee, that there be not more evil in the often altering of the laws, than there is in that disorder, which they go about to reform by the new law. For he thinketh it more safety to keep indifferent good laws, then to make others not much better. Wherein he hath good reason. For why, that constant and perpetual reverence towards the laws causeth a certain fear and bashfulness, and linketh men together within themselves with a sure and inviolable band of equity. But this fond appetite that men have to alter and change the law (without from weighty cause) engendereth a presumpteouse boldness, and maketh a way by subtle and wily means to take the law quite away, and to bring in tyranny. And although there came none other inconvenience of it, yet at the least it disordereth the common weal.  
Now this, which is to be feared about the innovation of laws, is to be determined about religion so much the more constantly, the greater the peril is to offend in religion, then in any other thing. This thing considered the founders of common weals of old time, punished such, as brought in any new trick of religion out of other places, with death or banishment, and decreed, that the rites or fashions of the country should be most constantly retained. Wherein, although they had shaped themselves a religion after a very bad sort, and lived in great errors, yet was this their ordinance not altogether void of good reason and consideration. For if it were possible, that some one religion might be more commendable than some other, he, that should take away an old religion, which were not ungodly, to set ●p an other religion, that were but a little better, should do a shrewd turn to the common weal.  
Why so, say you? Because he should bring in a custom to alter Religion, and, by consequent, to bring Religion into contempt. And so it might come to pass, that divers and sundry religions coming in one after an other, being either devised by crafty wits, or else taken out of other countries, might move great debate about the establishing of religion: and while every religion should disprove one an other, the matter might by little and little so fall out at the length, that all religion hold come to nought.  
The which thing being true, (that we may return to our disputation again) how is this to be taken, that a religion, which, is most true, holy, and ancient, approved and confirmed by the testimony of God, by the blood of Christ, by the faith of holy men, should be discredited by reason of a new gospel devised by the wit of a sort of filthy varlets? Is it not a consequent (as we now see it fall out everywhere) that there arise a number of religions of diverse ●ortes, all ungodly and nought, yea and jarring within themselves? That they arise one against an other? That every one of them disprove the folly of others? That never a one of them being able to maintain itself by ground reason, and strong argument, they come all at the length to be despised and set at nought?  
By these steps or degrees are men come to that point at the length, that many a one raiseth up the damned spirits of Arius, Sabellius, and other most detestable heretics from holl▪ and reneweth their errors, which were before buried: some others think, that there is no Religion true it all, and persuade themselves, that the world is not governed by God. This fruit have the brochers of your newly devised and fresh tapped gospel brought into common weals, that ●uerie man may profess himself▪ to ●e a setter up of a new Religion, and ●ake up the sword against all other, ●hat are devisers of the like pestilent sects: whereby it is like at the length, ●hat all order of Religion may be taken quite away. O what bountiful and profitable fellows are these, which ●aue so worthily prepared a way to ●l mischief and ungodliness?  
And yet you asked me, what came ●to my head, to affirm, that these sects are dangerous and hurtful unto Princes. Tell me sir, I pray you, such as ●aue presumed to do so great villa●i●, as to overthrow the wonderful example of chaste and clean life, to deface all monuments of religion and holiness, to burn the holy Canons or rules of the Church openly at a sermon, to raze the state of the church with their weapons (where they might be suffered to do it) to bring the people to hate the law, and so to play outrageous and mad parts, to despise all lawful authority, to set God and all godly order at nought, to fill the Churches and chapels of religious men with blood, to egg and allure the simple people through the hope of to much liberty to take up armour: think you not, that these fellows (when so ever they shall find occasion) will turn the self same fury and rage vp●n the Princes themselves? Is it not well known (as it is sa●ed before) what they have wrought and practised against the emperor in Germany, against the estate and life of King Henry in France, against Edward, whom they made away with poison, and afterward against Queen Marie in England? Is it not known, how traitorously and furiously they bent themselves against the majesty of these Princes? What shall I here say of the King of Scotland, whom the world knoweth to have ben most cruelly murdered? What? Have they not wrought the like treason against many other Princes also?  
I leave out a number of examples of this barbarous villainy, which I could here recite. And, although there were none such, yet would I not dowbt to say so much, as I have said. For it is not the part of a wise man▪ when he seeth the cause, to dowbt of the event, which followeth necessarily of the cause. For when I see the common people void of fear, unruly and fierce through a pretenced name of liberty, outragiousely following their own unbridled will and pleasure, haughtely flinging up and down, bearing themselves upon a false opinion of Religion: may I doubt, but that they are most spitefully bend against all authority, whereby they think, that their liberty, (which they so griedely long after) may be hindered?  
These are the things, M. Haddon, these are the things, that do dishonest Religion, and not those matters, which you speak of. For what is more comely and honest, then to obey such authority, as is ordained by God? To dread and fear the judgement of God? Reverently to consider the mercy of God, in them, whom he first trieth by dew punishment, and so admitteth them into life everlasting? To call to mind the monuments of justice, godliness and holiness? To yield up humble prayers unto God in the most holy sacrifices, for the good estate of the living, and for the salvation of the dead? But in the mean time, while you doubt not to say▪ that these most godly orders are the things, that do dishonest religion, you mark not how great the dishonesty of your religion is.  
For, that I may say nothing ●ls, can there be any greater dishonesty of religion, then that all Sacraments and ceremonies, all decrees and ordinances of the Church, all priesthood and holy orders should be under the rule and government of a woman? I mean not hereby to disgrace your Queen, whom I desire to see so beawtified and furnished with most excellent virtues, that her name may remain as a thing of holy remembrance unto all the posterity. Neither do I so much blame her, as you, which have by your flattery brought her to this inconvenience, that she taketh herself to be governess of the Church. Tell me sir, if it like you, where have you read, that ever any Prince took upon him the office or charge of the high Bishop? No rather, all such Princes as loved godliness and justice, whose name is for their noble acts set out to the posterity for ever, did reverence the judgement of Priests, refused not to be obedient unto Bishops, and thought like very wise men, that it would turn to their everlasting commendation, if they were governed by them. So did your great Constantine, the most worthy ornament and beauty of your Island: so did our Theodosius, so did Lewis King of France, so did a number of others, which with most noble victories enlarged their empire very far: when they had subdued all countries with armour, they did so obey the decrees and ordinances of Bishops, that they seemed to glory not so much in their Empire, as in that obedience. But you have brought all holy things not only under a king, which (as I showed before) were to be esteemed as a most heinous offence, but also under a queen, against all right and reason, against the inviolable reverence of most pure religion, against the ordinances of almighty God: you have taken away the most holy dignity of the high bishopric from the lawful bishops, and have transposed it to be administered by a woman. The which, I say, was a most wicked deed, a most barbarous act, a most detestable and cursed offence. Whereby it may be gathered, that man's heart can imagine no mischief so horrible and devilish, that these flatterers will not take upon them to practise it, with desperate boldness and impudency.  
Here do I pass over many things, and unto the railing words, which you heap together against me, I answer you nothing, for in deed I regard them not. Neither is it my meaning to confute your railing words, but to take upon me the defence of most holy Religion, for the which it were a goodly matter for me to die. All other things therefore I let pass, that I may come to that place, in the which you draw blood of your own body, yea and geave yourself a deadly wound with your own hands. Your words are these.  
What then? This holy doctrine of the gospel, in the which we have continued more than thirty years together (the most troublesome space of six years excepted) in the which the Queen's majesty hath passed over all her life, in the which she hath found God so merciful unto her, in the which the states of the realm are fully agreed, in the which many noble statutes and laws have ensued: this true and sincere worshipping of almighty God, which is so diligently environed and fortified on every side by the queens majesty, shall the voice of a silly fellow of Portugal break it down? What a deal of matter you heap up together, M. Haddon, how unadvisedly you speak (that I may not say, how rashly and madly). for first of all, this, which you call the holy doctrine of the gospel, is the doctrine of Luther, Zwinglius, Bucer, Calvin, and other the like brainsick fellows, which have, not only by their most pestilent decrees and ordinances, but also by the example of their filthy and vicious living, quite overthrown all chastity, holiness, modesty, meekness, and obedience: which have broken and cast away true faith, and in steed of it have set up a rash and presumpteouse boldness: which have taken away liberty (although in their talk they pretend otherwise) and for that have rewarded their adherentes with a licence to live in naughtiness uncontrolled▪ which have taken away the gift of justice (which is the greatest and largest grace that man may receive of God) and for true justice have brought in a feuned and counterfeit iustice● which, of a mad and ungodly mind, have not been ashamed to impute the cause of all sin and wickedness to God that most perfect goodness, from whom no evil can proceed: which, (whereas they took upon them to scour or purge the gospel thoroughly, and to repair the Church again, which tendeth to ruin) have not only not performed so much, as they proudly and rashly promised to do, but have moreover beraied the Church (the uncleanness whereof religious men could not bear before) with much filthiness of vice and naughtiness, and have brought it to be rend and riven in pieces.  
What should we think to be the cause, wherefore, when any man infected with the contagion of this doctrine is taken amongst us (which is counted here a very strange matter) although he set never so sad or grave countenance upon it to make a colour and show of holiness, yet will the concealed tricks of a disordered and carnal mind show themselves, and many fowl vices, which were before hidden under the covert of hypocrisy, will forth with appear. For the more a man giveth himself to this doctrine, the more is he contrary to bashfulness and continency.  
I omit to speak of your earnest talk, wherein you say, that this new broached Church, which is distained with innumerable vices, may be compared with the Church of the Apostles, which was most flourishing with heavenly gifts, with religion and holiness.  
As for that comparison of mine, wherein I showed, what great difference there was between the two Churches, I would not have you vainly and without any fruit to find fault withal. For as yet you have not confuted it, neither shall you ever be able to do it. And who so ever shall attempt to do it, shall do nothing else, but only set out to the world his own madness and impudency together, and cause all men to laugh at his folly, and abhor his malice.  
That I may therefore omit that foolish and shameless talk of yours, I would you would compare this your Church, but only with the Church of your ancestors: the which thing if you do, you shall find, that there is brought in for the religious conversation of your forefathers, a presumptuous boldness: for their gravity and constancy, a light and unsettled harishnesse: for their continency, sensuality: for their manhood niceness. And will you call this the holy Doctrine of the gospel, which hath overthrown and defaced so many holy things, and in steed of them hath brought in such a deal of naughtiness and disordre?  

The first founding of the protestants Church.  Call to remembrance I pray you the first founding of this your Church. For you may not well dissemble such things, as are commonly talked of all men, and in writing commended to the everlasting remembrance of all the posterity. Wantonness and love were the first setters up of it: the breach of law and order, and a hatred towards the Pope for giving sentence against the offender enlarged it: the flattery of lewd fellows with the help of lying walled it: inordinate desire and covetousness fenced it: the punishing of holy and innocent persons hallowed it: the putting of all men in fear confirmed it: finally the Doctrine of such men, as were sent into those coasts not from god, but from Satan, infected it with most pestilent and seditious errors. Dare you call this a religious, ●odly, and holy doctrine, whose beginning, proceeding, increase, and end you see (unless you be in extreme and miserable blindness) to have been set upon, followed, and finished with naughtiness, incontinency, hatred, covetousness, cruelty, outrage and madness?  
Then, what a foppery is that, to say, that you have continued in this doctrine, more than thirty years together? O reverent horeheaded gospel. O ancient heavenly doctrine. O old unspotted religion. But you think, that you being a witty and wily interpreter of the law forsooth, need not reck much for the antiquity of your doctrine. For you seem to plead prescription, and therefore you content yourself with the space of thirty years, within the which time you think, that the order of your religion may be lawfully possessed. Howbeit if you take away from thirty years the space of six years, which you call a troublesome time) it is evident, that this your holy Gospel is not yet fully thirty years old.  
But admit that the thirty years were fully expired, if this title of prescription be good, then may the Arabians much better maintain their sect, than you can yours. For you defend your heresy by the prescription of thirty years: but they will uphold the wicked superstition of Mahumet by the possession of more than nine hundred years.  
You say moreover, that the queens Majesty (for such a pleasure have you ●o flatter, that you never call her the Queen, as though in the name of a Queen, there were little dignity, or ●ls ●er Majesty should decay by and by, ●f you should call her Queen). You sai●●herfore, that the queens Majesty hath ●assed over all her life in this doctrine. That this is true, I have none other warrant but your word. But if it b● so▪ ●he fault is not so much in her, her●●● in h●● teachers, who had the bringing up of her, when she was of age tender and weak, and therefore the more meet to be abused by such subtle and crafty fellows.  
Last of all, it is not as yet evidently seen, so long as she is not free from your tyranny, which under her name, as men say, do possess the kingdom, what way she would take in all these matters. Of this I am right well assured, that her singular wit is not by nature so obstinately bent to maintain an opinion once conceived, or so much given to naughty and false doctrine, that it is not very flexible to yield unto good reason, and very willing to forsake false doctrine, and to follow that which is true and incorrupted. Wherefore I doubt not, if she be so witty, as you say she is, but that she will (so soon as ever she may do it for your importunity) turn from this your wicked doctrine, to the honest, godly, and profitable doctrine of the Church.  
And whereas you add these words: In the which she hath found God so merciful unto her: Methinketh, you understand not in what thing the testimony or proof of God's mercy standeth▪ For it standeth not so much in the glory of the people, or in the prosperous success of worldly matters, as in the peace ●d quietness of conscience, in a mind beutifully decked with the gifts and graces of God, in faith and upright conversation, in true and uncorrupted doctrine, ●n that state of life, which is abundantly ●●rnished with heavenly virtues. Furthermore, if she have had God very ●erciful unto her, and have not tried ●r felt as yet his judgement, she ought ●o be so much the more careful, that ●e do not offend him, and that she do ●ot abuse his mercy and clemency to ●e contempt of his most pure and holy religion. And to make so much of five years prosperity, it argueth a'●●erueilouse great rashness in you. When Solon warned Croesus, that he should not trust to much to prosperous fortune: he taught him, that the prosperity not of five years, but of many years, is to be feared: and he showed withal, that no man is to be accounted happy, so long as he liveth. This Croesus being afterward overcome by Cyrus and set upon a pile of wood to be burned, called with a loud voice upon Solon, by whom he had been warned before of the condition of man's frailty, and of the sudden alteration of worldly felicity. Cyrus' hearing the name of Solon, demanded of Croesus what that Solon had been. To whom Croesus answered that he had been the wisest man in all Greece, of whom he had learned this lesson, that it is the greatest madness in the world to be lifted up to much with prosperity. Cyrus forthwith, caused Croesus to be taken down from the pile, and used him very honourably, and himself in all his prosperity held a goodly mean.  
These and the like examples are so well known, and daily experience giveth us such occasion to know the uncertainty of this our condition, that there can not be any greater token of madness or folly, then to wax proud, when the world serveth us at will. For who so ever is puffed up with the prosperous success of things, neither doth he understand, how suddenly all the wealth of the world vanisheth away, and from how high a grief or step many of the greatest Princes have sallen, to the great wonder of all men: neither doth he consider, what a violent kind of severity that supreme judge useth, when he mindeth to shake as it were with a whirl wind, and throw down the estate of such as trust to much to themselves. Who is able to say, that all things shall prosper with him, even until his dying day? Who is able to assure himself of one day, yea of one hour void of all calamity or mishap? For as darkness ensueth upon light, as the tempest is wont to come upon the watermen and mariners unwares: even so doth heavy chances oftentimes mar the flourishing state of fortunate men, and overwhelm them in the waves of all adversity, and drive them against the rocks of everlasting thraldom and misery. And the more careless men are, the more grievously are they pained, when any such calamity falleth upon them.  
Wherefore it is the part of a wise man, to consider long time before all such mischances, as may happen every day and hour, yea every minute of an hour: but it is a token of a foolish and mad fellow, in prosperity to forget the weakness of man: especially whereas we see oftentimes, that almighty God now and then suffereth such, as he is most offended withal, to have the longer enjoying of their apparent felicity, that he may of a sudden strike them, that will not repent, and give them the deeper wound. And therefore our Lord warneth us, that we be 
Gen. 7. ●.  not like unto them, which in the days of Noah lived a reckless life, and so continued even unto the time, in the which they were oppressed suddenly with the flood, which they could not possibly avoid. He teacheth us also by the sudden 
Gen. 19 ●.  firing of those Cities, that his judgement catcheth improvident men, as it were with secret grins or snares, in such sort, that they can not escape from everlasting punishment and torments.  
If these things be true, what a madness was that in you, for five years prosperity, to vaunt yourself so arrogantly and vainly? To triumph so insolently? to build so great an argument of God's favour towards you upon so slender a ground? See you not how many nations there are in the world utterly void of the faith of Christ, whose estate is a great deal more flourishing than yours is? If this argument were any thing worth, see how easily the Turks shall be able to avouch their pestilent sect, wherein they are drowned. You maintain your cause with five years felicity: but they will prove their Religion to be true by their great victories, and by the very prosperous success, which they have had in all their affairs for the space of many years.  
Last of all, are you well ascertained, what alteration one day, or rather one hour, may bring unto your state? Wherefore are you then so brag? Wherefore do you vaunt yourself so far beyond all modesty, as though you were free and past all danger, yea as though you were altogether exempted from the bonds of the condition of man in such sort, that you could not possibly be overtaken with any sudden mishap?  
As for the agreement of your council in bringing the ancient Religion to be set at nought and forgotten, (if it be so as you say) and in making the queens Majesty superintendant in all spiritual matters, I have already declared, that neither of them both could be done without incurring the grievous displeasure of God. If you think, that you shall escape unpunished, because it is delayed, take heed, if you repent not, while you have time, lest you do increase through this your presumption, the plague, that hangeth over you.  
As for the hope, which I conceived (as you say) of your Queen, and therefore wrote those my letters unto her, it repenteth me not, as yet of my doings. If I have done any good, it will appear at the length. If I have done none, yet the signification of my good heart towards her, can not be but well taken of her, if she will continue in her accustomed courtesy and gentleness.  
You say, I shall not bring her to be of mine opinion, no, although I should write six hundred millions of Philippicall Orations. I would feign know, how you are able to avouch that. Think you, that she is of nature so barbarous and savage, that although I do detect the crafty dealing and privy practices of naughty fellows, and prove them unto her by Arguments invincible, by reasons more clear than the sonneshine at noontide, if I set before her eyes the filthiness and lewdness of this counterfeit religion, which they have most wickedly and heinously devised, if I declare unto her in plain words, how childish your reasons are, wherewith you go abou●● to maintain their cause, and how il favouredly they hang together: think you, I say, that she will, notwithstanding althiss rather embrace your most detestable opinion to her certain and utter undoing, then call to mind again the true Religion, which hath been forgotten for a time through the default and naughtiness of such as should have put her in remembrance of it, to her most assured salvation and glory everlasting? If reason shall overcome he● if the authority of holy Fathers shall cause her to yield, if the Law of God shall put it into her heart, that she will desire to forsake and detest this your sect: yet have you so good affiance in your own force, and so little estimation of the sharpness of her wit and judgement, that you dare warrant, that unless you geave her leave, she shall never return (do what she can) unto that godly order of Religion, which her most noble progenitors observed and kept very honourably, to their great profit and immortal glory? Shall you Sir, have her at your commandment and beck: shall you take order with her: shall you prescribe her what she shall believe, in such sort, that for fear of falling into your displeasure, she shall not regard her own life and dignity: but shall rather suffer herself to be carried away into everlasting torments and damnation, then to gainsay your opinion, be it never so ungodly, heinous, and wicked, yea and maintained with never so fond and peevish kind of talk?  
But be it. Admit she be so much an underling unto you, that she dare not for her life once dissent from you in any thing. What if she shallbe moved by the instinct of the holy Ghost? What if Christ himself shall stir her heart to consider and enjoy his gracious gifts? What if God will set up such a light before her heart, that she may see how certain wicked persons work privy treason against herlyfe and person? And, that I may say nothing else, what if she shall receive but only such a small quantity of the light of God, that she may see, that Luther with his disciples and followers, were never moved by the holy Ghost, but pricked forward by the fiends of hell, and that they came not to instruct men with wholesome doctrine, but to infect them with most pestilent errors? What? Will you this notwithstanding, hold her back, will you shackle her in such sort, that she shall not possibly give ear to the holy warnings and counsels of God? To continue in a wicked opinion being once convinced as erroneous, is the part of a dull and blunt wit: to be afraid of the unjust displeasure of her own subjects, is a token of a base and cowardly heart: but to refuse the gift of God's mercy, to reject his gracious aid, when it is offered, is an argumten of an ungodli and naughty mid. So shall it come to pass, that you, while you desire to put the world to understand what a perilous fellow you are, shall falsely charge that Princess, whom you report to be most excellently furnished with all virtues, passingly well adorned with many singular qualities, with dullness of wit, with feintnes of heart, and with the crime of impiety.  
Truly M. Haddon she is very much beholding unto you for your goodly service, if you have by your diligence, so beset her on every side, that, although she see herself tumbled down headlong into everlasting death and damnation, yet she may not be so hardy in her heart (if you say nay to it) as once to which or step aside, to avoid the danger, that hangeth over her, lest in so doing, she might trouble your patience (more grievously perhaps then a man would think). And yet am I moved to refreine to write unto her, ●ny more of the same matter for very just and good causes. For I think I have very well discharged my duty, both in my letters which I sent unto her, as also in this answer, which I writ against your book, if it hap to come to her hands. Either therefore the things that I have already written shall have sufficient force and strength to make her heart to yield, or else I shall not be able to do it, although I writ again. And in deed, I have not so much vacant time, that I may spend it without any fruit or profit.  
Let us now come to your good counsel, wherein you advertise me, that I should not once handle the holy scriptures. you commend my wit, and my eloquence you do not mislike. But you say, that I am to be reckoned amongst the Orators and Philosophers, and not amongst the Divines, My books of nobility (for it is like you never read any other books of mine) you sale you like very well. I am right glad, that my wr●tinges are commended by a man so finely learned, and so trimly nourtered: and your friendly counsel I take it in good worth. And therefore it liketh me to speak unto you (Sir new Divine) 
Damasip●us had no ●hing of a 〈…〉 but ●…ely a ●ard: The ●●ber ●…erfore ●●ing 〈…〉 rd, 〈◊〉 awai ● Philosophy.  with the self same verses, as Horatius feigneth himself to have used to Damasippus a new Stoic.  
Sir Waulter for your counsel true, a barber may you have:  
Sent from the Gods and Goddess eke, your worthy heard to shave.  
But how came you to be so well acquainted with me? Who told you, that I have not bestowed a great deal more study in Divinity then in Cicero, Demosthenes, Aristotle and Plato. You commend my wit. what then? think you that the study of Divinity is meet for dull heads only and drawlatohes▪ You like my eloquence: 〈◊〉 you therefore that the holy Scriptures would be handled of rudesbies only and homely fellows? Whereas you give authority to women, to tinkers and tapsters, to the riff-raff of all occupations, to jangle and prate at rovers in Scripture matters: will you forbidden me, being not only a bishop and Priest, and long time exercised in the holy Scriptures with some profit, but also a man (as you report yourself) both witty and eloquent, to follow this most godly trade of learning? Then by what equity, by what power, by what authority do you this? shall it be lawful for you being a man of law, to geave over the statutes made for walls, lights, and eves gutters: to despise and cast a side your obligations, bargains, and covenants: to lay away the drawing of writeth and suits in law: and to take upon you in Divinity as bold as blind baiard▪ and to me, to whom it appertaineth by office to instruct the Church committed unto me in the holy Scriptures, will you not give leave, to bestome much time and diligence in the study of them? You are injurious two ways. For you do both violently intrude yourself into other men's possessions, and wrongfully thrust me out of mine own by your unjust injunctions.  
Now those threats of yours, how weighty and grave are they? What a great terror do they put into me? You say thus. If so be that you mind to vaunt yourself to certain men, and so to assault us any more, I warn you now before, that you come with far better furniture, than you have done at this tyme.  
You tell me moreover, that, in case you be dead before, yet there shall not lack such, as shall break the dint of my stroke, Whereby I see, that you could never so much as guess, what my meaning is. I know, that there are in that Island many excellent men both, for wit, learning, and godliness, which will never molest me, for so much as they agree with me in religion marvelously well: (although you think it a matter not to be borne.) Then if any man do write against me, in case he will contend with reason, arguments and examples, I will not refuse to dispute with him. But if he fall to railing and reproachful words, I can not possibly be persuaded to make him answer. For neither am I moved with any reproach, neither can I look, that that victory should turn me to honesty, where the manner of fight is so unhonest. If I shall see, that there is any hope to win you and such as you are to God, I will not doubt to try both by letters and prayers, what good I am able to do. Otherwise I will not suffer my time, whereof I have little to spare, to be so●l bestowed. 
Tit. 3. c.  For so doth S Paul teach us, that after one or two warnings we should shun the company of such men as are obstinately bend in erroneous and wicked opinions, for so much as they are condemned by their own judgement. Wherefore I geave you leave, to bend yourself most fiercely against me with taunts and reproaches. Roar as much as you list, cry out as loud as you can. For neither is it convenient for my person, neither yet comely for the office I bear, to be moved with railing words, or else to make answer to every slander. I never reviled you, whom I knew not.  
As for my epistle, which you rend and tear with spiteful language, it hath not one reproachful word in it, unless perhaps you will call the most just bewailing and most true declaration of errors and wicked vices a reproach. And yet like a wild bore thrust thorough with a venomous dart, you ran upon me, as though you had been wood. But I was not only nothing disquieted with your reproachful words, but also moved to laugh at your fond talk. I take my God to witness, that, if the love, which I bear to true Religion and godliness, had not earnestly moved me, I had never put pen to the paper to write against your book. But if you knew, how much I pity your case, and what a hearty desire I have of your salvation, (for I would with all my heart, as the duty of a Christian man requireth, yield myself to die for the salvation of you and your countrei men) you would surely be at one with me. For I was not moved by any evil will I bear you, but it was very charity, that provoked me instantly to write. I pray Christ our most bowntifull and almighty Lord, I humbly beseech him, by his precious blood shed for the salvation of all men, by his wounds and most bitter passion, by his death, by the which he overcame death, by his victory which he achieved over the kingdom of Satan, to deliver that kingdom, in the which hath been sometime a dwelling place of virtue, religion, gravity and justice, and is now disordered through the lewdness of desperate fellows, from errors and heresy: to make the brightness of his light to shine over them: to bring them again to the faith and unity of most true Religion: to carry them back unto the fold of the catholic Church: to govern and maintain them by the assistance of his holy spirit: that all we, which are now sundered in opinions, may at length agree in the unity of faith, and love of true Religion, and so come to that everlasting glory, to the great rejoicing of all the holy company in heaven.   

Liber iste lectus est & approbatus à viris sacrae Theologiae et Anglicani idiomatis peritissimis, quibus tutò credendum esse existimo: maximè cùm tantùm translatus sit ex Latino legitimè approbato.  
Cunerus Petri, Pastor Sancti Petri Lovanis. 3. septemb. Anno. 1568.